Magic Rising (6 page)

“Talk to me.”

“You won’t believe what I’ve found.” He sounded happy, so he’d found something good. She suspected he got a boner every time he found a juicy tidbit to pass on.

“Don’t leave me hanging here.” She put on her turn signal and pulled to the curb to take the call.

“The local news has Tamara Haas getting on a plane with her daughter.”

“What? I never met a daughter.”

A laugh echoed in her ears. “You’re telling me. Since the stalker story broke, the press has been all over her. There are pictures of Tamara Haas getting onto a private jet with a kid. The girl can’t be more than twelve.” She heard him hitting buttons. “Wait a minute. I took a digital when the story aired. I’ll send it to your phone.”

“You mean when you were supposed to be hacking, you were watching television.”

His jovial mood ended. “I ran into some trouble and took a break. Forgive me.” He huffed. “I couldn’t find anything on a Lora Shope. Nothing. Not really unusual. Kids are hard to track. They don’t have driver’s licenses or utility bills.”

She hated it when he defended his actions. It would be better to hear him say that he’d taken a break than go into detail about the difficulties in tracking a child. There were ways. A simple check on the father would give a location then maybe he could crack a school computer.

“I get it. Keep going.”

“I did find a divorce record between Shope and Haas. It seems our actress had a husband that she didn’t tell anyone about. One that became our stalker.”

Deirdre felt her mouth fall open. If Haas had known who the stalker was, why didn’t she tell anyone? Shope could’ve been picked up much sooner and without all the drama.

“A husband she didn’t brag about?” Her phone beeped as she spoke.

“Okay you should have it now. The image might be a little blurry but you got to see this kid.”

An image of a little blond-headed girl with blue eyes appeared on the display. Her hair was bound in pigtails by pink ribbons. Funny, she didn’t look anything like Tamara Haas and considering Jack was black, she didn’t resemble him either.

“I got it but that can’t be Jack’s kid.”

“I think it is. Why else would she deny the marriage? Why would he worry about his daughter and Tamara? DNA can be freaky shit. Who knows? She might’ve even cheated on him but he thought the girl was his.”

“Did you get the name of the little girl with Haas?”

“No. I’m trying to dig into birth certificates now. I’m hoping to put a birth date and a marriage certificate together, but I’m willing to bet that Lora is Tamara Haas’ daughter. The target from last night was married to her and no doubt there was going to be some sort of custody battle. Probably one he couldn’t afford against a wealthy actress, but that doesn’t explain why she claimed he was stalking her instead of telling the truth.”

“What was the date on the divorce records?”

“Twelve years ago. It was signed one week before Valentine’s Day. Isn’t that romantic?”

It wasn’t uncommon for a custody dispute to turn ugly, but not this long after the divorce. A motive for Shope now existed. He may not have known about his daughter and recently found her. Haas must’ve been embarrassed. No, that couldn’t be right. Tamara Haas had never been embarrassed by love scandals. She seemed to thrive on them, giving press releases about her divorces, not hiding them.

The actress’s daughter would’ve been noticed by the press before now. Tamara Haas won awards and occasionally grabbed the tabloid headline, yet no one had ever mentioned a daughter and why would Shope believe his daughter was in danger? Was that even his daughter? She certainly didn’t look like him.

“Dig a little deeper for me. You may have to make a visit to the courthouse. I need to know if Shope or Haas had custody and if either had filed any appeals to the arrangement. I also need a verified picture of Lora Shope.”

“Deirdre, why are you pursuing this? The case is over. There’s nothing we can do now. Even if Lora wanted to be with her father, she couldn’t.” Tech’s voice trailed away into silence.

Deirdre couldn’t answer. There wasn’t a logical explanation for her behavior, not one Tech could understand. It was Jack’s eyes. The emotion in there appeared like a sane man that had been pushed too hard for too long. Perhaps he had custody and Tamara wanted to get him locked away to claim her daughter. That would’ve created an uglier scandal though.

“I have my reasons. Just keep digging. I want to know why a woman who loves the press didn’t give out the correct stalker information. The man was in her hotel and she claimed to not know him. Shit like that doesn’t happen unless there’s a reason.” She started to end the call, and then stopped. “Listen, I may be out of range soon. I’ve got some business out of town. I’ll get back with you tonight.”

“Have fun. Bring Chinese food when you come by.”

* * * *

Stone House was in the middle of nowhere; consisting of a main stone structure surrounded by smaller houses and storage buildings. A person could hike for a day before finding another home and the long stretch of interstate nearby was nearly a two-hour jog.

At least, she doubted industry had broken that far into the mountains. She wasn’t even sure who owned the property now. The state or some hunting club might have acquired it. Either way, she doubted there were cell phone towers or satellite signals that could break through that steep mountain range.

Deirdre pulled back onto the road, taking the first exit for 25/70. The drive was a long one. That particular piece of property had been bought for a reason. She had no idea how far back ownership went but it was perfect for their purposes…for the leaders’ agendas. There were three high-ranking leaders at Stone House. Someone outranked them but she had no idea who that had been, a benefactor maybe.

Cars passed her, some beeping as they cut around in the left-hand lane. She usually drove fast, but she couldn’t maintain pressure on the accelerator. The further she drove, the slower she went, and when she saw the sign for the state line, she slowed even more.

She couldn’t put this off. Going back to that place was the only way for her to discover what Ryan Farmer knew. There was no paper trail for him, no record of events that could be looked up from a safe computer at the station. Farmer had gone to that house and he’d learned something.

There couldn’t be anything left. She hadn’t watched the entire structure go up in flames but the fire had been too intense to leave much behind. She’d watched it burn for three days from the safety of the woods before she hitched a ride to town. From the edge of Walnut she had made her way to the bank and the money her mother had promised would be waiting if they ever got out of the house. It was there, enough money to get her out of town. Deirdre’s legal birth certificate had been there too. That’s the first time she’d seen her full legal name.

They always called me Dragonfly.

The trip should’ve taken just over two hours, with highway speeds of seventy miles an hour, but her trepidation slowed the drive. Instead, over three hours had passed from when she took the exit and found the old dirt road leading to Stone House. Weeds filled the center of the narrow road with bushes and limbs crowding the sides. Visibility from the main road was poor, causing her to pass the turn, and have to circle back.

An old metal sign marked the way. Rust ate at the edges, speckling the surface of the “No Trespassing” sign. A thin metal cord blocked the road. Deirdre stopped her Viper, stepped out, and unhooked the cord from the wooden post across the drive. Standing there in knee-deep weeds, she knew she should’ve smelled pine, instead there was smoke.

“Someone got cold and started their woodstove.” She spoke to herself hoping to end the awful feeling that she would go up the drive and find Stone House still in operation. That was ridiculous, but part of her knew they would find a way to keep her there if any of them had survived.

Staring at the road coiling in front of her made it hard to move. Her car was going to take a beating. If it rained, she was sure to get stuck. Deirdre took a quick glance at the clouds above, hoping for some sign of rain, or any excuse to end this adventure. There was none. The sky never looked so blue.

Taking a deep breath, Deirdre went back to her car. Around her, there was nothing but the sound of crickets and the noise from the nearby interstate. She hesitated, listening, expecting to hear a voice from her past. They might not have died. A few might even remain in these woods watching for a trespasser, waiting for her to come further into their lair.

Waiting would only make the feeling in her stomach worse, driving back felt too close to dying. She wasn’t used to fear, only heightened senses when danger came close and her instincts kicked into gear. Fear wasn’t pleasant but being caught somewhere in between afraid to leave and afraid to continue was misery.

Deirdre slid the car into drive and started over the difficult road. The bumps jostled her hard and she had to drive slowly. Several times rocks hit the underneath of her car, digging loudly or scraping.

Ahead she saw the stone archway marking the true entrance to the compound. Vines grew along the round river rock, some sliding into the grooves and appearing next to another section. The concrete lip and the top remained intact. That was where the sharp shooters watched, waiting for a target to cross their path. She shivered, wondering if ghosts still lurked there, marching to and fro on guard.

“May the powers that be protect and shield.”

It was a silly saying she had learned here but it made her feel better as she drove beneath the archway. It marked the entrance to a different world, one no government had breached, no child services had ventured far into, and where nothing from the outside was permitted to stay for long.

The old gardens were to the right. A few grapes remained, gnarled-looking vines running from what was left of their support and onto the ground. The rest were weeds surrounded by remaining blackberry bushes.

As a child, she had worked many hours there. Children were the main labor behind the food crops. It was supposed to build their bodies and endurance. There weren’t many children here when she was young. Most hadn’t survived the training and a few had escaped.

Ahead were the stables or what was left of them. No horses lived there now. She’d set them free before leaving and hoped none had died. It had been her last act of defiance because they never let her care for the horses. No contact beyond basic tending was allowed.

She drove by two dormitories. Most of the adults stayed there, lodged like college students, unless a leader suspected them of treason. The children and leaders were housed in the main building. It was a control tactic. As long as children were kept separate from their parents, the parents couldn’t sneak away with them in the middle of the night.

Staring at those old buildings brought an odd shiver. They seemed smaller now, but she supposed everything looks larger to a kid. The structures weren’t as menacing anymore either. They were just old buildings, stale places where people were housed a half a mile from the main structure.

She almost passed the men’s facility when movement in the front window caught her eye. At first, she thought she’d imagined it then someone looked out of the dirty glass. This place wasn’t unoccupied after all.

Deirdre pulled over, stopping halfway in the road. She had to find out who stayed in that house. If it was him…no…couldn’t be. He died. She watched him die and spat in his face as blood drained from his body while the outer wall collapsed. He’d killed her mother, but Mercury was dead.

Her heart pounded too fast as she went to the front door of the old dormitory. She couldn’t control it. In normal circumstances, she would knock, but this wasn’t normal. Whatever, whoever stayed here had to be malevolent. Nothing else would survive on this evil soil.

She stepped onto the wooden porch, hearing a long creaking sound. The diamond cuts were still in the glass, the paint was peeling, and bits of rot clung to the surrounding wood.

Going through the front door would be too dangerous, the same with the back. Either could have a shooter, waiting for someone to access the home. The safest entrance would be through the second floor.

Deirdre stood on the rail and pulled herself to the roof of the porch. She wrapped her legs around the post and shimmied up. From there, she crawled to a second floor bedroom window. The glass was cracked and dirty, but she could see the room and it was empty. She tried lifting the frame, pressing her palms against the glass. It moved enough to let her know it wasn’t locked and gave her the smallest finger hold. Unfortunately, the swollen wood was difficult to lift. She pushed, straining the glass before the wood slid up enough for her to get inside the building.

The smell of must and stale air enveloped her. She eased across the room and listened. Heavy footfalls filled the first floor. The sound traveled back and forth, moving then stopping. Someone downstairs was pacing, not crouched and ready for the kill. But what better ruse to trap her?

She eased open the door and inched toward the open landing just after the hall. Through the pine slats, she had a good view of the first floor where a man walked between the windows, peering out every few minutes. He had a heavy beard. His bones jutted sharply from his too thin body. He wore a flannel shirt and jeans. Both were thin and dirty, worn long beyond their use. On his shoulder sat a shotgun, no doubt loaded for whoever stepped inside. That weapon made her nervous. It took no finesse to kill with it, especially loaded with buckshot. A general aim in the right direction would wipe out the target.