Page 66 of Last Girls Alive
“When I get some time. What’s wrong with the police sedan?”
He laughed, finishing up his stretches.
Katie was exhilarated as she drove to Elm Hill Mansion.
The gate was open, so she slowly drove up the driveway which had been covered with white, large-stoned gravel. She didn’t remember it being that way when the crime-scene investigation was going on. As she reached the top, she pulled over to the farthest side, parked, and cut the engine.
Cisco whined but made himself comfortable, turning several times and then lying down. Katie decided to keep him in the car. He’d had quite the workout and would snooze while she and McGaven took a look around.
Katie stood in front of the car surveying the property. It was one of those types of property that was more beautiful every time you visited. The investors knew a good piece of land would make a fortune with three luxury-spec houses. It was now officially an ongoing crime scene, but they would be wrapping things up soon.
Clouds littered the sky and the wind was mild but cool. Katie zipped up her sweatshirt and pulled up her hood to keep the cold air out and her neck warm.
The three large metal storage containers on the left side of the property had now all been shut. They intrigued her, so she would check them out before they left—giving them a once-over to complete the search. There was no reason to search or document them as part of the crime scene, but it wouldn’t hurt to take a look.
There was one bulldozer and another large piece of equipment still sitting where it had been left. The other oversized work vehicles must’ve been picked up for other jobs. The yellow tape cordoning off the area to the public had been removed.
Katie slowly walked along the large flat stones that led to the main entrance of the mansion, looking up at the missing decorative pieces around the windows and doors and remembering what the house had looked like after it was finished by the Von Slovnicks. The porch they had stood in front of for the photo was almost non-existent now.
Recalling all the historical information from the county archives, she didn’t remember seeing or hearing about why the previous owners wanted to donate this house for the girls and the county.
Where they just being charitable? Philanthropists? Or, was it something more personal?
Sara and Jonathan McKinzie lived there twenty years before donating the house, but there was no other record; no real estate, no other charitable contributions, no photographs of them. McGaven hadn’t found anything about them—yet.
Katie heard a car coming up the long drive, gravel crunching under the tires.
Cisco gave a couple of warning barks, but settled back down again after he knew it was McGaven.
Katie watched him park his large truck next to the police sedan and get out. He gazed around the area before jogging up to greet her.
“Glad you could make it,” she said.
“We should check out those containers.”
“I thought the same thing. Maybe we were hasty?”
“Thinking we should have searched them on our first visit?”
“Maybe. But we can’t officially now.” She turned and headed toward the house.
Keeping up with Katie’s pace, he said, “If we find something, that’s a bigif, it can still be used to guide the investigation, just not in a court of law. Right?”
“That’s true.”
“So what’s the plan?”
“Get inside the house, if we can.”
“You want to look at the staircase, am I right?”
“Of course.” She steered them around the right side of the house to the storm door she’d seen on her first visit.
“Where are you going?”
“I think there’s an easier entrance from the basement.”
When they reached the door to the basement, Katie stepped inside and looked around.
