Lucas looked away from it. His gaze drifted along the wooded property, pausing on a couple of empty beer cans abandoned at the base of a pine. People had been here, more than likely kids that were a carbon copy of who he had once been. He couldn’t count the times he and his friend Mark had climbed fences, ignoring signs that warned trespassers of prosecution. He couldn’t remember how many windows of abandoned houses they had peered into, or how many supposedly haunted tunnels they had walked. And yet, here he was, the lover of all things dark and mysterious, wondering if taking up residence in Audra Snow’s old house was worth the risk.
What are you going to do, Lou? Turn the truck around and drive back to New York? You don’t live there anymore. That life is gone. You’ve been abandoned, excommunicated, forgotten, or has that already slipped your mind? With Caroline’s sister Trish on hand in case of an emergency, the house in Briarwood was locked up for the two weeks Caroline was overseas. Who knew what she’d do with it once she returned? Perhaps, on top of signing divorce papers, he’d also be signing a sales agreement. The New York City real estate market was ripe for the picking. She could list it on a Monday and have a deal wrapped up by the weekend.
“Jeanie.” Dropping a hand from the wheel, he caught his kid by the ankle and gave her a light squeeze. “Jeanie, wake up.”
Jeanie exhaled a muted groan, her fingers prodding at her still-closed eyes. “What?” she mumbled, her voice dry with sleep.
“We’re here.”
“We are?” She sat up, her hair wild and luminescent with the glow of the dashboard. “This isn’t it, is it?” She squinted at the place, yawned, then gave her father a dubious look through the shadows of the truck’s cab. Lucas leaned back against the U-Haul’s bench seat and let his hands drag across the thighs of his jeans. “Dad?” Her attention bounced from the house ahead of them to her father’s face.
He had seen it online, photographed in the daylight with sun shining off of its wood-paneled, stone-covered front. It had reminded him of the Brady Bunch house, complete with its front double doors and badly worn shingle roof. In the sunshine, the place looked welcoming. But now, it was nowhere near what he imagined.
“Hang on . . . Dad. It isn’t even near anything.” She was twisting in her seat, getting a good look at nothing but trees. “You said it was close to town. Close to the movies, to something . . .”
Lucas chose to ignore his daughter’s complaints and nodded toward the house instead. “Come on, let’s check it out.”
Jeanie let out a dramatic sigh and shimmied across the long seat toward the passenger door. She was unhappy, not to mention cranky from being woken up, but it was too late now. They were here, and Lucas wasn’t putting another mile on the odometer tonight.
They dashed through the rain and across the gravel driveway, the truck’s headlights illuminating their way. Ducking beneath the awning above the front doors, Jeanie shivered and pretzeled her arms across her chest, impatient to get inside. Her trepidation had buckled beneath the cold.
“I bet there’re going to be bugs everywhere. It’s going to be like a haunted house inside, isn’t it? Spiderwebs and everything?”
“There aren’t any bugs.” Lucas pulled a silicone key chain from his pocket and slid the key into the lock. From his research on a few real estate sites, he’d learned that the property had been on the market for years. It had only recently been purchased by someone who, lucky for Lucas, had decided to use it as a rental.
After a few seconds of struggle, he got the dead bolt to slide back and pushed open one of the doors. Jeanie ducked inside before he could hit the lights. He slid his hand along the wall while she stood in silhouette, the truck’s high beams at her back. Finding a dimmer switch to the left of the door, he turned the little plastic wheel and the overhead lights faded on.
“Oh God.” She breathed the words while stepping farther into the foyer, rain water spattering the redbrick floor at her feet.
The living room was recessed, nested a good eight inches into the floor with steps leading into it from both the foyer and kitchen. The interior was a weird mishmash of colors and textures. Green-painted wood paneling and gray stonework gave the place an undeniable retro feel. The red brick skirted the living room in a raised L shape, stopping at the foot of a staircase that led to three upstairs rooms. A stone fireplace butted up against the brick walkway, giving way to a sea of ugly beige carpet that looked recently replaced.
A distinct hint of bleach hung acrid in the air, more than likely wafting out of the recently scrubbed bathrooms. Lucas had made it clear to the property management company that he expected the place to be move-in ready. He didn’t have time to play housemaid with his impending trips to Lambert Correctional, and with all the research he had to do. What Lucas hadn’t told them was that he knew the history of the house, and it was only now that he realized that had been a risk. If there was graffiti somewhere on an outside wall—a 666 or someone’s idea of a clever throwback to the murder/suicide that had occurred—Jeanie was bound to find it. But despite this worry, and the relative cleanliness of Audra Snow’s former home, he couldn’t bring himself to look away from the low-pile rug. He wondered if the carpet had been the same shade of tan in 1983—the same color, at least, until it had been soaked in blood.
“This is bigger than our house back home,” Jeanie said, trying to make the most of the place. “It’s, like, totally disgusting-looking, but it’s definitely bigger.”
Before Lucas had the chance to note that they now had two bathrooms instead of one, she ducked into the shadows of the kitchen. He followed after her in silence, his hands deep in the pockets of his jeans.