Trapped (A Jenny Watkins Mystery Book 5) Page 19

  “Okay,” Jessica replied thoughtfully, “if there is a slave graveyard back there, what should I do about it? I know you want to put Samuel with the rest of his family, but we don’t know anything about the others. Where would be the most respectful place for them to rest?”

  “Well, I wanted to talk to Roy about that,” Jenny confessed. “I have a theory, but I’d like to verify it.”

  “You’ll need to speak to him soon,” Jessica said. “He and Florence are checking out in the morning. It seems the baby they’re planning to visit is better now, so they’re headed out of town at sunrise.”

  “I can get them if you want,” Zack offered.

  Jenny smiled at him. “Thanks. That’d be great.”

  Moments later Zack returned with the couple, who joined the rest of the crowd by pulling up chairs from another table. Roy leaned forward on his cane and said, “I hear you’ve got a question for me, young lady.”

  “Indeed I do…again,” Jenny replied with a smile. “I recently saw a vision of a slave burial, and it appeared that the people in attendance were…happy. It looked more like a party than a funeral.”

  “That was probably true,” Roy said.

  Everyone waited silently for an elaboration.

  “The slaves were a very religious group of people,” Roy continued. “They strongly believed that when they left this earth, they got to live in paradise with the Lord. And if you think about the poor quality of the life they endured in this world, having it come to an end wasn’t necessarily a bad thing. When a slave passed, the others gathered to celebrate rather than mourn. The deceased was fortunate enough to go to a better place, and despite the feeling of personal loss they had, friends and family regarded that as a good thing.”

  Jenny turned to Zack. “I think that answers your question from before. You wondered why Samuel was the one leading me to the slave burial site instead of the slave himself. My theory is that the slave isn’t contacting me because he has already crossed. According to what Roy is saying, it sounds like the slaves would have wasted no time crossing over. They knew something beautiful was on the other side, and they would have wanted to get there as quickly as possible.”

  “A slave certainly wouldn’t want to linger,” Ingunn added as she continued to eat.

  “Precisely,” Jenny said.

  “But I still don’t know what to do if they find people back there,” Jessica declared with a worried look on her face.

  “My suggestion would be to clean up the area, give them nice headstones, and leave them there,” Jenny replied. “Maybe plant some grass and put a fence around the area. It’s my understanding that they aren’t unhappy where they are. Their burials were joyous, and I’m not sure they’d want to be moved, but I think we would all agree they need to be treated with a little more dignity than what’s currently going on.”

  Jessica turned to Roy. “Do you concur with that? Should we just turn that area into a graveyard? Is that respectful enough?”

  Roy nodded. “I believe so. And then history buffs like me can come pay respect to them, just like we do the soldiers.”

  Jessica seemed to be absorbing the words. Turning to Jenny she added, “And you said the sculptor was willing to make little memorials for them?”

  “Yes, ma’am. He said he’d make as many as turned out to be necessary.”

  At that moment Jenny’s phone vibrated in her pocket. Glancing down at the screen, she saw that Howell was the caller. “Oh, if you’ll excuse me,” she said, “I’ve got to take this.” Stepping away from the table she eagerly answered.

  “Hi, Jenny,” Officer Howell began. “I just wanted to let you know we paid a visit to your friend on Forest View Lane.”

  “And?”

  “And, unfortunately, he appears to be a regular, law-abiding citizen.”

  “What?” Jenny exclaimed. “You mean he’s not the guy?”

  “I’m not saying that. However,” Howell added, “we really don’t have anything on him. Nothing concrete, anyway. I know the car matches the description of the one you’d seen in your visions, and he did resemble the composite sketch, but our only true witness—the surviving victim—didn’t choose his photo from a line up. She fingered someone else when showed several options.”

  Jenny wiped her face with her hand. “Is the fact that she’s a detoxing meth addict being taken into account?”

  “Yes, it is,” Howell assured her, “and so is the fact that eyewitness testimony is often unreliable. However, even if you take that out of the equation, the fact remains that we’ve got nothing on this guy.”

  “Did you go to his house?”

  “We just got back,” he replied. “We went there under the guise that we were canvassing the neighborhood, just looking for information. We even went to several of his neighbor’s houses to perpetuate that claim. But this guy didn’t act the least bit suspicious; he invited us in and allowed us to look around, in fact. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary; we didn’t see anything that would cause us to officially put him on the suspect list. Couple that with the fact that he’s got no criminal record, and there’s really no reason for us to pursue him.”

  “But that house screamed with fear when I went there.”

  “I understand that,” Howell said, “but our resources are limited, and we have to follow the more tangible leads. I’m sorry, but the boss would never approve of using funds and manpower to investigate an individual who has already been cleared, simply because a psychic directed him to.”

  Jenny’s heart was in her feet. “Okay,” she said helplessly, “but can you at least promise me that you will keep his name in mind?”

  “I’ll do that,” Howell assured her. “I, personally, will keep tabs on him.”

  Jenny politely concluded the phone call before she returned to the table with her shoulders sagging. Resuming her seat she announced, “You know that guy who lives on Forest View Lane? The one I got led to and had the blue car with the T? Well, they cleared him.”

  “They cleared him?” Zack also seemed shocked.

  Jenny nodded reluctantly. “Afraid so. They searched his house and found nothing, and the drug-addicted witness couldn’t identify him in a line up.”

  “Bring me there,” Ingunn directed.

  “What?” Jenny asked.

  “Bring me there. Let me get a feel for that house.”

  Glancing at Zack for affirmation, Jenny replied, “Okay, Amma, we can bring you there. I’d rather wait until morning, though, if you don’t mind. I don’t want to be anywhere near his place in the dark.”

  With one single nod, Amma said, “We’ll go in the morning. If this is your guy, I’ll know it.” She pointed at Jenny. “And I’ll make sure they get him.”

  Jenny looked over Zack’s shoulder as he typed the address in the county’s real estate website. With a click of a button, Zack was able to conclude, “If he owns the house, it looks like his name is Hunter Tate.”

  Jenny stood up straight with a gasp. “That was how he signed his letter, remember? He insisted he wasn’t the Highway Killer but rather The Hunter.” She placed her hands on her head. “I guess he was taunting the police more than anyone realized.”

  “Well, we don’t know for sure that this is our guy. The person driving the car may have just been visiting, or our killer might be renting from this Tate character.”

  “How can we find out if it’s him?” Jenny posed.

  “Give me a minute.” Zack’s fingers pressed more buttons as he accessed the white pages website. He typed in Hunter Tate’s name, and the address on Forest View Lane appeared on the screen. “It appears he lives there. Whether or not that was his car remains to be seen.”

  “Scroll down,” Jenny commanded.

  Zack obliged but then posed, “What do you want me to look for.”

  “I want to see if there are any Mrs. Tates on here.”

  Suddenly understanding, Zack clicked on a few women that were close in age to Hunter, and none of th
em had the same address. “Provided this is a complete list, he appears to live alone.” He paused a moment and added, “In fact, I think I can verify that.” He used the reverse look up feature to type in the address, which revealed only one resident.

  Jenny curled her lip. “Do you find this a little disturbing? We’re total strangers and we’re able to find out all of this information about him.”

  “Hell, yes, it’s disturbing,” Zack agreed. “But in this case I’m grateful for it.”

  Scratching her head, Jenny asked, “So how can we tie him to the car? Is that public knowledge, too?”

  “I don’t know. Let me check that out.” He tried several avenues to connect Hunter Tate to the blue sedan with the personalized plates, but he had no luck. “I think that might actually be private,” he eventually concluded.

  “That’s good, at least,” Jenny noted. “Not for us right now, but I’m glad at least some things are sacred in this day and age. I guess we have to leave it to Officer Howell to run the tags.”

  “Okay.” Zack released a breath and returned his focus to his laptop. “Now to see what Mr. Hunter Tate looks like.”

  “How are you going to do that?”

  “Social media. Hopefully he has an account somewhere and his face is on his profile picture. Even if his settings are private, we should at least be able to see what he looks like.” Jenny took a moment and stretched while Zack searched. She was surprised by how quickly he said, “Bingo.”

  She looked at the screen, expecting to see a face that resembled the composite sketch she’d seen at the truck stop. However, she saw something entirely different.

  An orange T.

  Jenny deliberately didn’t say anything as she drove her car past Hunter Tate’s house. It turned out she didn’t need to.

  “It’s that one,” Ingunn announced as she pointed. “It’s engulfed in fear.”

  “That’s what I said yesterday,” Jenny agreed. “Unfortunately, the police can’t feel that.”

  “Turn the car back around. And drive slowly when you go by.”

  Jenny did as her grandmother said.

  “There’s no car there,” Ingunn announced. “He’s not home.”

  “It could be in the garage,” Jenny noted.

  Ingunn responded quickly. “It wasn’t yesterday, right? He may not use his garage.”

  “But he may.” Although Jenny wasn’t sure what Ingunn was thinking, she was already wary of it.

  “Pull into his driveway.”

  Somehow Jenny knew that was coming. “I’m not sure that’s a good idea.”

  “I’m an old woman,” Ingunn declared. “If he’s there and he questions me, I can just tell him I’m lost. He won’t suspect me, and I’m not his type.” She folded her arms. “Being old has its advantages.”

  Zack chimed in from the back seat. “She did hold her own against the pimp.” He paused a moment before adding, “Although, I do think I agree with Jenny on this one. It’s a little too risky.”

  “So then what?” Ingunn demanded. “We just let him keep going?”

  Both Zack and Jenny remained quiet.

  “I just want to get closer,” Ingunn added.

  With a sigh Jenny reluctantly turned around yet again, driving slowly to the house. She turned up his driveway and kept the car running.

  Ingunn quickly exited the car and marched with purpose to the garage.

  “What is she doing?” Jenny said with both urgency and annoyance in her voice.

  “Now you know how helpless it feels to sit here and watch that,” Zack remarked.

  Jenny wasn’t amused by the poorly-timed dig. Fear was surging through her body, consuming her. She knew the fear was only half her own, but the anxiety was physically painful.

  Ingunn cupped her face as she peered through the glass of the garage door. Her face remained expressionless as she walked back toward the car, leading Jenny to wonder what she had discovered.

  She approached the driver’s side door, prompting Jenny to roll down her window. “He’s not home,” Ingunn announced before turning back around and returning to the garage.

  “Oh my God,” Jenny exclaimed. “What the hell is she doing?”

  “I don’t know,” Zack said as he opened his door, “but I’m not letting her do it alone.” He got out of the car and also walked toward the garage.

  Jenny shook her head before turning off the car and doing the same. When she arrived, Ingunn was pulling on the garage door handle. “Locked,” she announced. Undeterred, she walked around the back of the garage and jiggled the handle of the pedestrian door. It, too, appeared to be locked.

  “Are you seriously trying to get into his house?” Jenny asked with dismay.

  “Trying,” Ingunn replied, “but not getting anywhere.” She began to scour the ground.

  “Amma,” Jenny argued, “I can’t let you do that. It’s crazy, not to mention illegal.”

  “Illegal…” Ingunn raised her finger and looked Jenny in the eye. “But not wrong.”

  Jenny hated how much her own actions were being held against her at this moment.

  Ingunn seemed to find what she was looking for. “You,” she said, pointing at Zack. “Come pick up this rock.”

  Jenny was stunned. “You are not planning to break a window.”

  “I’m not,” Ingunn said, “but he is.”

  “We can’t do this,” Jenny implored.

  Ingunn looked her in the eye again. “You think we should leave?”

  “Yes,” Jenny said emphatically, feeling like she finally may have gotten her point across. “I absolutely think we should leave.”

  Ingunn approached her granddaughter and lowered her voice to a whisper. “Do you feel that fear?”

  Jenny didn’t reply; she didn’t want to admit the answer was yes.

  Ingunn continued to whisper, “Can you really walk away from that? Can you face Michelle’s mother and tell her that you came this close and turned around?”

  Jenny only swallowed.

  “That’s what I thought,” Ingunn declared as she continued to look Jenny in the eye. “And right now, we’re wasting time.”

  The sound of shattering glass caused both women to look toward the garage. Zack poked his head around the corner. “I guess he doesn’t have an alarm system.”

  “I can’t believe we’re breaking into his house,” Jenny said as Zack reached inside the hole in the glass.

  He stuck out his tongue as he concentrated, eventually opening the door from the inside. “We’ve done this before,” he reminded her.

  “But we had a distinct purpose in mind,” Jenny argued, “and the guy wasn’t a serial killer.”

  “True,” he conceded as he walked through the open door, being careful not to step on the glass. “But we did get away with it.”

  Deciding to throw Zack’s own words back at him she added, “and now you’ve totally just jinxed it.”

  Unlike the last time she found herself in a house where she didn’t belong, Jenny didn’t have a clear idea of the floor plan, nor did she have particular destination in mind. She felt horribly vulnerable as they crept through the garage, which she noted had been converted into a wood shop. She was struck by the organization…wrenches hung on a pegboard, arranged by size; cabinets adorned the walls, seemingly hiding everything that would make the garage look untidy. She noted there wasn’t even any sawdust on the floor. She deduced he was either was very neat or else he didn’t use his workshop.

  Feeling like she was having an out-of-body experience, Jenny followed Zack and Amma as they walked up a few steps and into the door that led them into the kitchen. As soon as she walked through the doorway she felt her lungs tighten. “Shit,” she whispered, “he has a cat.” Her nose immediately filled and her eyes became teary.

  Her comment went unanswered. Instead Ingunn said, “We’re definitely on to something. Do you feel that?”

  In addition to the allergies, the fear was also choking Jenny. “Yes,” she
agreed softly, “I do.”

  She looked around the kitchen, which definitely lacked the feminine touch. The window had no curtains, and the decorations were basic. Jenny did note, however, how incredibly neat and clean everything was. The counters were so clutter-free they were almost bare—there wasn’t even a pile of junk mail and important papers, something Jenny had always regarded as a staple in every home. She noted the pots and pans that hung from a rack above the island; they were so shiny they looked unused. Strangely, it almost looked like no one lived in the house at all.

  “Are you getting anything?” Zack asked.

  “Not anything specific,” Ingunn replied bluntly.

  Jenny blinked and sniffed away an impending sneeze. “Me neither.”

  They walked through an opening which led them into the dining room; once again Jenny was struck by both the neatness and simplicity of the room. She looked for trinkets—items he may have taken from the girls as trophies—but she found no such things. Everything seemed to appear perfectly normal for an obsessive-compulsive bachelor.

  Ingunn entered the living room first, followed by Jenny and then Zack. The source of Jenny’s discomfort made itself known; a slender orange tabby cat was sitting on the top of an elaborate cat tower, looking out the front window. Jenny also took advantage of the view, noting that Tate’s car hadn’t appeared in the driveway. Still, she felt a desperate need to be quick. She didn’t want to find out what would happen if he came home to find them there.

  The cat hopped down from the tower, walking silently toward Jenny. With a purr that grew increasingly more audible, the cat weaved its way through and around Jenny’s legs. “Every friggin time,” she whispered, referring to her incredible knack of attracting the very creatures she desperately tried to avoid. Despite her effort to thwart it, a sneeze made its way to the surface.

  “I don’t see anything unusual,” Zack noted. “Do you?”

  As Jenny agreed that nothing stood out, Ingunn made her way silently down the hallway. Zack watched her walk away but said to Jenny, “I was actually hoping to look in the basement next.”

  She looked at him with a puzzled expression. “How do you know there’s a basement?”