Page 35 of Little Girls Sleeping
Deputy McGaven didn’t immediately answer, as if he wanted her to guess. But then he finally explained, “Mr. and Mrs. Haven are whacked.”
“What?”
“They have a different way of thinking; they yell and scream at one another, throw large objects, and they’re convinced there is always someone wanting to break into their house.”
“Great,” Katie replied. She hadn’t realized that she was walking into a crackpot’s property, wanting to interview another one who lived in the barn. “And you didn’t think this was important enough to tell me?”
“It’s your investigation. I’m here to make sure that you operate within the duties and laws of the department.”
Another mile on and there was a large mailbox withHavenmarked on it, and an old sign spray-painted with the wordEggs.
“This it?” she asked.
“Yep,” was the deputy’s reply. His irritation was obvious from his tone.
Katie eased the car down the garbage-riddled driveway. The large farmhouse was in desperate need of repair, with peeling paint, a couple of boarded-up windows, and weeds everywhere. It didn’t seem that Price was helping with handyman jobs, by the looks of the place.
She parked and stared at the dilapidated surroundings. “Well,” she said, unhooking her seat belt, “let’s go see what’s up.” She didn’t wait for the deputy to reply or follow her; instead, she made sure her gun was secure under her jacket.
Outside the car, she stopped for a moment and listened, still surveying the area.
Nothing.
No sounds or indication that anyone was around. She half expected to hear power tools, hammering, chickens, or dogs barking, but there was nothing.
She wasn’t sure if anyone was home, because there wasn’t a car parked anywhere. She walked up to the porch, stepped up the three stairs, and stood at the door. Knocking three times, she called, “Hello? Mr. or Mrs. Haven? Anyone home?” She knocked again.
Deputy McGaven took his trained cover position behind Katie and a few steps to the right. His hand on his service weapon, he waited, looking in all directions.
Two minutes passed without an answer or the sound of anyone moving around inside. Katie peered into a filthy window. The living room was quite neat and orderly. Nothing screamed foul play or that something was wrong.
She decided to walk around the property just in case someone was working and hadn’t heard them drive up. There were junked cars, old refrigerators, and miscellaneous tossed items lying around. Most things had clearly been there for quite some time, as the weeds had taken over and intertwined themselves in every crack and crevice.
McGaven followed at a distance, keeping alert, his focus on anything or anyone that could be waiting to ambush them.
An old greenhouse sat in disarray with pieces of plastic flapping in the wind, a neat pile of fresh lumber lying on the ground a few feet away. Next to the greenhouse structure was a wooden shack. The door stood open and Katie could see that there was a cot inside, but no one was around.
The barn was around back. One of the doors swung gently open and closed in the breeze.
“Hello? Anyone here?” she called again.
No one answered.
She decided to go inside the large structure. McGaven waited outside. The barn was old, but there had been an attempt to maintain it with new paint and replacement of some of the siding. She allowed her eyes to adjust to the darkness. Bales of hay were stacked neatly in two corners. Tools hung on the wall in a systematized manner arranged by type.
“Hello?” she said again. “Mr. Price?” She presumed Terrance Price was most likely responsible for the maintenance on the barn and that he would be nearby.
As she walked toward the left-hand side, an unusual hypnotic squeaking sound made her stop. It was consistent with the gentle banging of the barn door. The wind whistled through gaps in the structure and added a quirky harmony to the other noises.
She moved deeper into the barn. Just as she was about to turn right, movement caught her attention at eye level. Startled, she stepped back. A body was hanging by its neck, swaying gently back and forth. It was the rope rubbing against the beam that made the squeaking sound.
She caught her breath, trying to block out memories of dead bodies in combat, and focused on the hanging man before her. It appeared to be Terrance Price, based on his photo and description from the police file. He hadn’t been dead for more than a few hours; there were signs of rigor mortis just beginning to set in.
It was his fixed, bulging eyes that spooked Katie the most, as they seemed to follow her no matter where she moved. She looked around but didn’t see anything that appeared suspicious. It seemed Price had jumped from the upper level of the barn and had had no time to change his mind. He would have broken his neck and died instantly.
Retracing her steps, Katie returned to the main doors and practically ran into the waiting McGaven.
“Call in a 10-54—actually a 10-56,” she ordered. The first code meant that there was a dead body, but then she changed it to a suicide instead. A full investigation would have to corroborate that initial call, but it was sufficient for now to get things moving forward.
