Chapter 23

An hour and a half later, we were parking the SUV behind the sheriff’s vehicle as he pulled up outside the crime scene tape circling the house where Ashley had been held. Brice and I had protested her being on the scene, but she had swatted our protestations off, arguing, “I got this, guys. Besides, I can help the case by giving you live feedback.”

We’d both had to agree on the truth of her statement.

Ashley had given us what information she could: sounds, smells, the fact she had been in a two-story, farm-style home, with a barn and outbuildings, as well that it had a creek running along the backside. The whole description of the scene had fit my house and property so closely, it had been uncanny, and a small shiver had raced down my spine as she had been describing it.

As the Sheriff exited his vehicle, the five of us climbed from our own. Then, after gathering our supplies, we began making our way toward the house, being careful not to disturb anything in case we uncovered evidence the previous search had left behind.

The deputies had cleared the house and the perimeter around it earlier, having found Ashley’s abductor long gone, so none of us felt the need now to go in armed. Following Brice and the Sheriff, as they climbed the steps leading to the porch, we all crossed the porch, then paused as the Sheriff, with a large amount of hesitation, pushed the front door open, quickly following into the house’s interior.

Sunlight streamed in through the cracks in the dingy-looking curtains mounted above the windows, revealing dust mites, disturbed by our entrance, dancing within the bright beams in a glorious profusion of sparkles. As I glanced around, I noted the place looked like it had been abandoned for a hell of a long time. “Sheriff?” I called to get his attention. “Do you have any idea how long this place has been abandoned?” I asked.

He nodded. “Been empty for about nine years now. The family—husband, wife, and two kids, a boy and girl—were murdered here. Of course, no one knows what really happened.. We’ve done some looking into their disappearance, but so far, we’ve been unsuccessful in solving the case—it's filed right now as unresolved.”

Ethan bumped into me, whispering, “It’s possible it could have been the same perp.”

At Ethan’s words, Grace glanced at him. “What was that?” he asked.

Shaking his head, Ethan murmured, “Just thinking out loud.”

As I thought over Ethan’s words, I heard a clock begin chiming in another room. As I counted the dong’s, I realized the clock’s time was accurate. Impossible in a house that had been abandoned for so long. Perhaps the voyeur had wound it. Glancing at the sheriff, I asked, “Did you, or any of your deputies notice the clock in the other room is keeping accurate time?”

Grace shook his head. “I don’t think so. Why?”

“Because, I just heard it chime, which means someone wound it. Might be a fingerprint source,” I replied.

Ethan, already heading toward the other room, stated, “I’m on it.”

As if Ethan’s words broke the strange immobility that had seized everyone after entering the house’s interior, we all sprang into action. Rick followed Ethan into the other room and I took in the markers laid out near items already documented as possible evidence. Pulling my camera out of my bag, I snapped several photos of each, then quickly followed Brice, Ashley, and the sheriff as they exited the room through an opposite doorway than the one Ethan and Rick had used. As we entered the den, I took more photos along the way of more markers and the items they sat near. Later, I would come back and examine the objects.

Little was said as we moved from room to room on our way upstairs in the search of the room where Ashley had been held. Finally, after examining two other rooms, we reached the last room upstairs, and as Brice pushed the door open, a voice on the other side greeted us. “Evening, Agents, Sheriff.”

Brice immediately reached for his gun, but Grace stilled his movements by quickly laying his hand on Brice’s arm.

"Josh Haskins, what the hell are you doing here?" Grace asked of the sandy-haired teenager sitting at the small table.

The teenager, seeing Brice's action, and the sheriff's, stilled, his hand remaining in the chip bag as he stuttered out, "Didn't mean no harm, Sheriff. Ryan Clifton bet me his .22 rifle earlier this week that I wouldn't stay the night out here. You know the rumors about the things that went on in this place, Sheriff? And now, with what happened to the lady here...." Josh shrugged. "Figured it was as good a time as any to make him come good on his bet. And after he told me the agents were in town, and that I'd be too chicken to come tonight in case they came out here, I bet him I wouldn’t be. He tossed in a box of bullets for the rifle if I came. Couldn't turn that kind of thing down."

The sheriff shook his head. "Boy, you do know you are invading a crime scene, right? I could arrest you for this."

At the sheriff’s words, the teen jumped to his feet, scattering chips all over the table and floor as he jerked his hand out of the bag, stammering, "But Sheriff, I ain't touched nothin'. I covered my hand with the edge of my shirt to open the doors, and I didn't go into any of the other rooms. I just checked the bedrooms out from the hall, not entering any of them. After seeing this was the only one that has a window to the roof, in case I needed a quick getaway, I came in here. I ain't gone anywhere since."

Brice stepped forward, his voice taking on a stern edge. "Look, kid, we'll let it slide this time if you clear out of here right now. So far, no harm has been done, but don't you ever enter an active crime scene again, you hear me?"

With a quick nod, Josh muttered, "I just wanted that rifle," then hightailed his butt from the room.

Grace shook his head, following the teen with his eyes as the lanky youth fled through the doorway. "This place has been a hot spot for years for dares and the curious,” he muttered.

"If you don't mind my asking, what exactly was supposed to have happened here?" Ashley asked, stepping forward until she stood next to Brice. Both Ashley and I had hung back as the two men had talked with the teen. However, as Ashley stepped forward, I quickly followed her. I was now overly curious about that information myself.

Grace's lips pursed before, relaxing them, he remarked. "It's actually quite a story. One that seems to have started even before Mrs. Pettigrew lived here. I haven't been able to find much information on the place, but what I have garnered is unimaginably evil."

As Grace had been speaking, Ethan and Rick had entered the room as well, and glancing toward them, Brice questioned, "How's it look?"

"Honestly, I can't see we need to do anything. Looks like the Sheriff and his men did an excellent job," Rick returned.

"Your word is good enough for me," Brice stated. Then, returning his attention to Grace, he murmured, "Carry on, Sheriff."

Grace, glancing at Ashley, asked, "You sure you're comfortable hearing this, Miss, after...everything?"

At Ashley’s nod, the sheriff nodded in return. Then, after a pensive moment, he stated, "If ever there was such as a house of evil, this has been it."