Weeping Walls Read online

  Paige pointed across the room. “Those.”

  CJ’s eyebrows shot up. “Three? Really?”

  “What?”

  “We’re there two days. One night.”

  Paige got out of bed, smiling as CJ’s glance took in her nakedness. “I like to be prepared for any occasion,” she said. She held her hand up when CJ took a step toward her. “We don’t have time. Don’t even think about it,” she said as she grabbed her coffee and hurried into the bathroom.

  “Tease,” CJ called after her.

  Forty minutes later, they were racing toward the office, the morning’s rush hour traffic already getting thick. Ice and Billy were waiting for them in the parking lot and waved them over. There was only a slight moment of awkwardness when Ice stood between Billy’s truck and CJ’s. He stared at Paige with raised eyebrows, but she made no attempt to move.

  “I guess I’ll ride with Billy then,” he said.

  Paige nodded. “Get him to fill you in on our visit with Duran last night,” she said.

  “You guys worked last night?”

  “Yes, while you and CJ were no doubt sleeping like little babies,” she said.

  “I’ll follow you,” Billy said out the open window.

  CJ nodded but left her window down as she pulled away. “It feels kinda fallish this morning,” she said.

  “It does feel nice,” Paige agreed. “I love October. It feels different. The air is not as humid, the sky is bluer. Leaves are starting to turn.”

  CJ pushed her window up when she pulled back into traffic. She glanced in the mirror, no doubt looking for Billy’s truck.

  “So what did you learn from Duran?” CJ asked.

  “Not much,” Paige said. “He had to read over the file just to jog his memory. He said the chalk had them convinced it was a teacher, and they thoroughly investigated every single one at the school. He said there wasn’t even a hint of a suspect among them.”

  “There are other schools in the area. Not just the elementary,” CJ said.

  “Yes. He said they ran checks on them too.”

  “What about the house?”

  “Just like the notes said. It was locked up. No evidence of a breach. He said they took a walk through the whole thing. Nothing was disturbed. No sign of activity.”

  “So pretty much, you just had a wasted night,” CJ said.

  “Yes. I would have much rather been in bed with you.”

  “Would you now?”

  Paige reached over and touched CJ’s hair, brushing it away from her eyes. “Have I told you how sexy you look?”

  “Oh yeah?”

  “You look good in black. The holster just adds to it.”

  “You do know the guys are behind us, right?”

  Paige withdrew her hand quickly. “Sorry. I forgot.”

  CJ blew out a breath. “This is going to be hard. They’re going to find out.”

  “We’ll be fine,” she said. “We’ve made it this far.”

  “Yeah, but we’re going to practically be around them twenty-four-seven. And you can’t keep your hands to yourself,” CJ said with a grin.

  Paige reached over and touched CJ’s thigh, running her fingers up and down her leg. “You weren’t complaining last night,” Paige reminded her.

  “No, I wasn’t. I happen to love your naughty side.”

  Paige laughed. “Naughty?”

  “Yes. You’re so…perfect. Refined. A girly-girl,” CJ said, covering Paige’s hand with her own. “But you have a naughty side that I love. The guys would be shocked.”

  “Wait a minute. Girly-girl? I’m not a girly-girl.” She held up her hands. “If I were, I would have long, painted nails. Which I don’t.”

  CJ gave a pointed glance to her feet. “And your toenails?”

  “Well, I’m not totally uncivilized,” she said. “I don’t think a twice-a-month pedicure makes me a girly-girl. And just because I have a fondness for red nail polish still doesn’t make me a girly-girl.”

  CJ laughed. “Whatever you say, baby.”

  Highway 59 morning traffic was at a near standstill heading into the city, but they had fairly clear lanes heading out. Paige figured it would take them less than an hour to reach Cleveland.

  “How do you want to work this?” CJ asked.

  “Small town sheriff’s office, I think we should let the guys talk to them,” she said.

  “Might be a cute lady sheriff,” CJ suggested.

  “Are you volunteering your services?”

  “No…just saying.”

  “Well, I think we should interview some of the residents of Shady Pines, the neighbors of the original missing boys. Maybe take a look at the house too.” Paige shrugged. “I don’t feel very hopeful that we’ll find anything. Do you?”

  CJ shook her head. “You ever worked a cold case before?”

  “No. Have you?”

  CJ nodded. “Just once. I was still with Houston PD. We recovered a gun at a homicide. It matched ballistics from a convenience store robbery where the clerk was abducted. His body was found two days later, shot in the head, execution style. Those two cases were six years apart.”

  “And how did it turn out?”

  “Gangbangers. They can disappear into the bowels of the city and never be seen again. Never solved either case.”

  “So you’re not optimistic about this one either then?”

  “Oh, we might stumble upon something. But fourteen years is a long time.”

  Paige relaxed back against the seat and they fell into a comfortable silence. It didn’t take long for them to be out of the city and into more rural surroundings. While it wasn’t the deep, dark forest of Hoganville, the tall pines and oaks did remind her of their adventure earlier that year. She made a mental note to check on Don Hogan—the lone survivor from Hoganville—when they got back. She found him to be quite intelligent and engaging, although being around him did conjure up memories of that awful night in the cave with Mother Hogan and Fiona. She stared out the window, remembering the last words Fiona whispered to her before she died.

  “Don’t run from CJ. Trust her. She wants to love you. Let her.”

  She glanced slowly at CJ, questioning again if that was true. CJ turned then and caught her eyes, holding them for a second before looking back to the road. Paige reached across the console once again, letting her hand rest lightly on CJ’s thigh, just wanting the contact. Without a word spoken, CJ covered her hand, her fingers linking tightly with Paige’s. They both squeezed and Paige wondered just what it was they were saying to each other.

  Chapter Six

  CJ slowed to a crawl as they drove past the elementary school. It was a few minutes before eight and parents were still dropping off their children.

  “So where’s this trailer park?”

  “Mobile home park,” Paige corrected her.

  CJ rolled her eyes. “What? We’re being politically correct here?”

  “Shady Pines Mobile Home Park,” Paige read from her notes.

  “Look, you don’t have to be sensitive for my benefit,” she said. “I grew up in a trashy trailer park. Everybody called it a trailer park. Only outsiders called it a mobile home park.”

  “I just think we should be respectful of where people live. This is all some can afford.”

  “I know. I’ve been there,” she said. She was also resentful of that fact, but it didn’t change anything. The trailer park life was all she knew until that fateful day when her sister spilled all the family secrets about their father’s sexual abuse. But she didn’t want to go there. Didn’t want to revisit that again. Paige now knew all her secrets too, and whenever they talked about it, Paige’s eyes would fill with tears. Tears for her, tears for her childhood, but tears nonetheless. And that was one thing she never wanted to see in Paige’s eyes.

  “You’ll turn on the next street to the left,” Paige said, using her iPhone for navigation. “Oak Lane.”

  “I guess we need to talk this out with the guys,
don’t you think?” she said as she turned onto Oak Lane.

  “Yes. But I think they’ll jump at the chance to interview someone from the sheriff’s office rather than go door-to-door here,” Paige said. “Okay, there’s Morgan Cemetery Road,” she pointed. “Turn right.”

  “And where’s this house?”

  “It’s on Morgan Cemetery Road too. About a half-mile from Shady Pines.”

  “Okay, now who owns the house? It’s not a local, right?”

  “No. Alex Underwood and Betsy Erwin. Siblings. One lives in Seattle, the other in Portland. They inherited it from their parents more than twenty years ago.”

  CJ nodded. “I didn’t read the section on the house,” she admitted. “Howley said it wasn’t significant.”

  “No. But interesting,” Paige said. “Their grandparents were the last ones to actually live in it. It’s been up for sale on and off for the past forty years. The file didn’t give any other specifics, but I’m sure some of the locals might know the history of it.”

  “Okay, so it’s got a perimeter fence that was breached, right? And both bodies were found out in the open? The killer wasn’t trying to hide them?”

  “The first body was found in the rose garden in the back of the house. The current victim was found in the front of the house, easily seen from the road.”

  “So the victim fourteen years ago wasn’t necessarily put there to be found. The current one was?”

  “Duran said the body in the rose garden was laid out very carefully, and a rose had been cut and placed on his chest. They determined the body had been there for at least two weeks. So it was almost as if the killer was indifferent as to whether the body was found or not.”

  “And with this new body put close to the road, this has the feel of coincidence and not a link to the cold case.”

  “I agree.”

  CJ slowed when she saw the sign to Shady Pines. “I hate cases like this.”

  “I’m interested to see the haunted house, though,” Paige said with a quick laugh. “Or to see Ice’s reaction.”

  She stopped in front of a tiny wooden building, the once white paint peeling away in most places. The sign announcing they were at the office was missing the “e.” CJ glanced at Paige as they got out.

  “Let me do the talking.”

  Paige raised her eyebrows questioningly.

  CJ shrugged. “These are my people.”

  This time Paige rolled her eyes, and CJ winked at her just before Ice and Billy joined them.

  “What’s the plan?” Ice asked as he tugged at the collar of his shirt.

  “Well, someone’s got to go to the sheriff’s office and interview them. We thought maybe you guys would take that.” CJ motioned to the rows of trailers behind them. “Probably going to be mostly women here, mostly older. They’d probably feel a little more comfortable talking to us than you two.”

  Billy frowned. “So me and Ice would partner on this one?”

  “I think this assignment is more of a team effort,” Paige said, “and not so much partners.”

  Ice said, “I’m cool with that. You two are going to check out that house while you’re out here, right?”

  CJ laughed. “No way, baldy. That’s a group effort right there. When you get what you need from the sheriff’s office, meet us back here.”

  “And check into our hotel this afternoon?”

  “Yeah. And we’ll grab lunch somewhere too.”

  Ice stared at her for a long moment, and she wondered what questions were floating around in his mind. He finally nodded and held up his phone. “Stay in touch.”

  As soon as they were back in Billy’s truck, CJ turned to Paige. “Ice suspects something,” she said quietly.

  “You mean with us?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Maybe so. Billy doesn’t have a clue, and I don’t think Ice would just come right out and ask us. Do you?”

  “I hope not,” she said as she held the office door open for her. She smiled at the woman sitting behind an ancient desk.

  The woman, who appeared to be in her forties and at least fifty pounds overweight, tossed the fashion magazine she’d been reading to the side, a cigarette still hanging from her fingers.

  “Help ya?”

  CJ and Paige simultaneously held up their FBI credentials. “I’m Special Agent Johnston.”

  “Special Agent Riley,” Paige said.

  “Well, I’ll be,” the startled woman said. “Female agents. I thought that was only on TV.”

  CJ gave her a humorless smile. “Yeah, they finally let us in.” She squared her shoulders just a bit. “How long have you worked here?”

  “Oh, my family owns the place. I’ve been office manager since I got out of high school,” she said.

  “So you were here back when those four boys went missing?”

  “Oh, yeah,” she said, shaking her head. “That was back in 2000. Horrible time. My boy was eleven when all that happened.”

  “Any of those four families still living here?”

  “No. But little Markie Poole’s grandfather still lives here.” She narrowed her eyes a bit. “Why are you asking?”

  “I’m sure you heard about the boy who was found last week,” Paige said.

  The woman leaned back, the old chair creaking with her weight. “At the old Wicker house,” she said quietly. “Kids around here grow up calling it the Wicked house.” She lowered her voice even more. “Some have seen ghosts out there.”

  “Really?”

  The woman nodded, her face solemn. “Screaming and crying too.”

  “You ever heard or seen anything?”

  The woman shook her head quickly. “I don’t go near the place. Not since high school. We would go there on a dare. Kids still do.”

  “Inside the house?” Paige asked.

  “Oh, no. It’s locked up. Windows are boarded up on the first floor. Even if it wasn’t, I wouldn’t go in the place,” she said.

  “So…what? The kids just go to the house?” CJ asked.

  “Inside the fence,” she said. “To win the dare, you had to go up on the front porch.” She waved her hands dismissively. “The older kids go there now to drink beer and hang out.”

  “I see.” CJ glanced at Paige. “We’re really not here for the house, though. Besides Markie Poole’s grandfather, are there others still around from 2000?”

  “Quite a few. There’s not a lot of turnover here.” She smiled quickly. “Just when people die.”

  “Okay,” Paige said brightly, plastering a smile on her face. “Then do you mind if we walk around? We wanted to interview some of the ones who were around back then.”

  “Start with Lizzie Willis. She’s in Lot Twenty-eight. Not much goes on that she doesn’t know about.” She lowered her voice again. “A bit of a busybody, if you know what I mean. She’ll talk your ear off.”

  “Great. We’ll start there then,” CJ said. “I’m sorry, what was your name?”

  “Brenda Cooper. My daddy owns the place now. It was my grandfather’s, but he passed on. Six years ago. Of course, my daddy had been running it for years anyway,” she continued.

  Paige smiled politely. “We appreciate your cooperation, Brenda. We won’t be long.” Paige handed her a business card and CJ did the same. “If you need to be in touch with either of us…for any reason.”

  “Oh, I will.” Brenda folded her hand around the cards. “Does this mean the FBI is investigating the disappearances again? Do you have some new evidence?”

  “No new evidence, no,” CJ said quickly. “But we really can’t discuss it with you. I hope you understand.”

  “Oh, sure. I watch TV. I know how it is.”

  CJ nodded. “We’ll let you get back to work then. Thanks for your time.”

  She turned to go, feeling Paige right behind her. Once back out in the sunshine, she took an exaggerated breath.

  “I know,” Paige said. “We both probably smell like cigarettes now.”

 
“But she was chatty,” CJ said.

  “How about we drive to Lot Twenty-eight instead of walking?” Paige asked as a dog—chained to a tree—started barking at them.

  “Gets my vote,” she said as they got in her truck.

  CJ drove slowly down the narrow lane as mobile homes of varying sizes and shapes lined both sides. Some were spaced very close together, others had small yards. Most were unkempt and shabby—showing their age. Clutter surrounded nearly every one.

  “God, this brings back memories,” she said quietly.

  “Is this similar to where you grew up?” Paige asked gently.

  CJ nodded. “Yeah, a lot of trailer parks look like this. Back then, ours wasn’t quite this run-down.”

  Paige reached across the console and squeezed her thigh affectionately.

  “I’m okay,” CJ said.

  “Yes. I know you are.”

  CJ met her eyes quickly, smiling slightly. Paige never judged her—for that she was thankful. She never had to explain anything. Paige simply accepted her past as it was.

  “Here it is,” Paige said, pointing to an old but tidy trailer. Absent was junk around the outside and there was even a patch of green grass and two flowerpots filled with red flowers.

  “What’s her name again? Lizzie?”

  “Lizzie Willis.” Paige got out and looked at her across the hood of the truck. “You want me to take this one?”

  “Sure.”

  CJ watched with amusement as Paige walked up the rickety wooden steps and stared at the door, obviously trying to decide where to knock. A screen—torn in several places—shielded the thin aluminum door.

  “Knock on the frame of the screen door,” she finally said.

  Paige knocked three times in quick succession. “Mrs. Willis?” she called.

  They could both hear the sounds of footsteps inside.

  “What is it? What is it?”

  A small woman with snow-white hair and slightly humped shoulders opened the door to them. CJ couldn’t guess her age despite her hair. Her face was nearly void of wrinkles.

  “Mrs. Willis, we’re with the FBI,” Paige said as she held out her credentials. “I’m Special Agent Riley. This is Special Agent Johnston.”

  Lizzie Willis’s face broke out into a grin, revealing clean, white dentures. “Well, I’ll be. This brings back memories. Of course back then, the ones who came around were men.” She looked pointedly at CJ. “They wore suits and ties.”