John Sherriff drove while Richard sat in the back seat with Donna holding her, trying to comfort her. Donna wasn’t thinking clearly. She was still in shock that Jared had left her because she’d kept things from him, but, in fact, he’d kept things from her, as well. She felt sick, every time she thought about Kim and Jared together. She didn’t want to believe Forrest.
Richard and John talked and discussed what they planned to do when they got back to Shreveport, but Donna had said precious little, on the two hour journey to Hornbeck. When she came to her senses, the three of them were parked in front of the two-story brick house.
Floods of memories hit Donna like a tidal wave. She swallowed hard, pushing the threatening pain back, trying to remember what Nadine, Jared’s mother, had taught her about blocking things out. Donna had been doing that for years, but that was old pain. This was fresh, and despite how things looked on the surface, Donna still felt its sting.
She rested her head against Richard’s shoulder. He wrapped his arms around her, resting his cheek on the top of her head. “Pet,” he whispered. “Are you going to be OK?” For a few seconds, Donna’s eyes glossed, and it looked as if the dam might burst; then like a light, she just shut it off.
She smiled softly and nodded. “I’m fine,” she said and walked away from him.
“Donna, wait!” John said. “Stay here with Ricky, until I make sure the house is safe.”
“John,” she groaned. “Why wouldn’t it be safe?”
“That depends on whether or not Forrest was making empty threats.”
“John is quick, pet. It doesn’t hurt to be safe.”
“Fine – here – you’ll need this,” she said, handing him the front door key.
John made his way through the mass of weeds and bull nettles that had overtaken the front yard. He remembered their sting from years ago; vicious but not as unforgiving as the nettles in the UK. His alert eyes noted that some of the downstairs windows had been broken. He was careful to avoid the shards as he crossed the creaky front porch.
Donna’s eyes glossed, again. “I should have come back sooner, but the memories… are too painful,” she choked.
“It’s remarkable how much a house can go down in – how long has it been?”
“Too long,” Donna sighed.
John held the handle and lined the key up with the lock. He froze. With one hand, he cautiously drew his gun from the shoulder holster under his jacket. He turned his head, held his finger to his lips and pointed to the car. Richard took Donna’s hand and started pulling her toward the open gate. “What is it?”
“We’re getting in the car.”
Donna’s eyes widened. Her mouth went dry. The memory of her and Jared being chased flashed through her mind. Richard opened the passenger door, put her in and then got behind the wheel. The door locks snapped. He put in his Bluetooth ear bud and tapped it. “What is it John?”
John examined the cracks and imprint of what he guessed to be a pry bar. “The door has been forced open.”
Richard and Donna watched him disappear into the old house.
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She held her finger to her lips and pointed. While John was in the front part of the house, they hurried down the attic stairs. Easing the back door to, they ran across the yard to the treeline and crouched behind a thick briar patch. She bit her lip as the woody talons tore into her forearm. “You’re bleeding!” he winced.
She frowned. “I’m fine,” she forced through her teeth, ignoring the sting as she freed her arm. “I’ve had far worse than this.” She jerked her head. They cautiously crawled between the three strands of barbed wire and hopped in the waiting jeep. She reached in the glove box. Keeping an eye on the back of the house, she ripped open the packet with her teeth and wiped the scratch. “Put this over it,” she said.
Pulling a face, he covered the scratch with a Band-Aid and swallowed hard. She softly smiled. He frowned. “What?”
She shook her head. “Nothing. As soon as they’re gone, we’re leaving. We can’t do this again. It’s too risky.”
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A few minutes later, John ducked his head and stepped out from under the porch, beckoning toward the car. “It’s OK,” Richard said. “We can get out now.” He rested a palm at the small of Donna’s back and guided her back through the opened gate. “You didn’t find anything?”
“Nothing but a few mice and some black widows,” John responded.
Donna shivered and rubbed her arm. Avoiding some rotten boards, they cautiously crossed the porch. “This won’t take long,” she said as they stepped through the doorway and approached the stairs. Dust particles danced in the beam of sunlight as she touched the handrail.
Richard squinted his eyes, jerking his folded handkerchief from his shirt pocket. “Achoo!” The sound reverberated through the empty house.
“Gesundheit,” Donna softly smiled. “Dust?”
Richard furrowed his brow and nodded. “Why aren’t you sneezing?” he asked, wiping his twitching nose. “I thought you were allergic to breathing.”
Donna grinned. “My bedroom was at the end of the hall,” she said, motioning with her head as they stepped onto the top floor and approached another door. “I need to go in here first. This was my grandparent’s room.”
She opened the closet door, squealed and jumped back into Richard’s arms. “Guess we still have to work on that phobia,” he grinned.
“I can think of someone who could help with that.”
Richard glared at John. “Get rid of that thing.”
John’s eyebrows shot up. “Me?” He coaxed the brown recluse into an empty jar and closed the lid. “You know… sometimes you abuse your authority, around me.”
Donna suppressed a grin. “Afraid of spiders, John?”
“No – but I don’t keep them as pets. I’ll take this outside and wait for you in the car,” he said, examining the trapped arachnid, through the cloudy pint jar. “Ricky, we need to finish this and get back to Shreveport.”
Donna narrowed her eyes. “I’m not leaving until I’ve been to the cemetery!”
“What do you need out of the closet?” Richard asked. “Incy Wincy might have had a family.”
“The three boxes on the floor.”
“The sealed ones?”
“Yeah,” she sighed. “I don’t know which one, though. After Granny’s funeral, I started boxing things away. I was going to label them and give them to the Salvation Army, but I couldn’t finish. It was too, soon. I never came back to the house.”
Richard peeled off the silver duct tape. “This one looks as if it’s filled with clothes.” He started laying the folded clothes on the bed. “Start going through that one. I’ve already checked for pests. John is right. We need to hurry. What are you looking for?”
“Old photo albums and a tin cracker box my grandmother used to store important documents in.”
“There’s something solid in the bottom of this one.”
“I found the pictures,” Donna commented, thumbing through one of the albums. She came across some pictures of her and Gary, taken when they were children. Her eyes blurred. “I’m looking forward to seeing Gary again,” she mused.
Richard pulled out a tall metal box. “Altine Cracers?” he prompted.
Donna glanced up. “Saltine Crackers,” she smiled. “That’s the one.” She thumbed through a few more pages and frowned, raising an eyebrow. “Some of the pictures are missing,” she murmured.
There was a pop in the loft. Richard started, examining the half-lit room with wary eyes. Donna grinned. “It’s just the house, Richard,” she chuckled. “Haven’t you ever heard wood popping when it cools down?”
“Houses in the UK are made of stone or brick. Apart from a creaking radiator, they don’t make noises. Are we done?”
“Bring those two boxes. If you’re afraid of spirits…” she shook her head, “… go wait in the car with John,” she chuckled.
“No, I’m fine, but I can’t shake the feeling we’re being watched.”
Donna rolled her eyes. “It’s probably just bats, Richard.”
Richard’s eyes widened. “Bats?”