Jenna called out again, louder this time, but the only thing coming from the house was the music. She turned to Kane. “What do you think?”
“I can’t see any tripwires.” Kane moved the binoculars from side to side. “Put a few rounds at the bottom of the steps. If there’s a pressure plate, that’s where it will be.”
Jenna aimed and sent four shots into the ground, sending up a cloud of dust. The sound of her weapon firing echoed around the buildings, announcing their presence, and the wind whipped the dust into dancing spirals. She called out again, and then moved with caution across the open yard to the back stoop. The dried remains of a rambling rose bush wrapped around the handrail and pulled at her clothes as she placed each foot with care on the rotting step treads. The eerie music set her nerves on edge and sounded so ghostly she had to push through her fear of the unknown to make it onto the porch and wave Kane forward. They took positions either side of the door, and heart pounding, she reached for the doorknob. It turned and swung open with a grind of rusty hinges. She waited a beat then turkey-peeked around the door. Relieved no one had set up a shotgun to kill an intruder, she scanned the small mudroom. Her gaze moved over a grime-encrusted sink to an old kerosene lantern hanging on a rusty hook. Cobwebs filled every corner of the small room but another door blocked her view into the kitchen. “Sheriff’s department.”
Nothing, no creak of floorboards, only the lilting scratchy sound of an old melody that she found strangely familiar and the flapping of curtains against the window frame. She looked at Kane’s professional façade and his eyes blazed a warning. Her heart picked up and raced. “Let’s take a look.”
Jenna sucked in a deep breath and grasped the knob. It turned but the door didn’t move. She rammed it hard with her shoulder. “It’s stuck.”
“Give me a try.” Kane moved into the small room, grabbed the handle and slammed his shoulder into the door. It whined and moved a few inches. “I figure something’s blocking it.”
“I’ll take a look through the window.” Jenna turned, holstered her weapon and sprinted around to the open window. “Come on, time’s running out.”
“I’ll have to lift you.” Kane stamped down the bushes under the window, and then bent down. “Get on my shoulders.”
Jenna walked her hands up the rough log wall and peeked in the window. “There’s a chair pushed under the doorknob.” She pulled open the window and gripped the weathered frame. “Can you push me up?”
“Sure.” Kane’s palms slid under her feet. “One, two, three.”
Hoisted up, Jenna wiggled through the window and crawled over a filthy counter, then dropped to the floor. She had the chair removed and door open as Kane thundered up the steps. The music stopped, and then a few seconds later started again. She pulled out her weapon. “Sheriff’s department, come out. I know you’re in here.”
Only the scratchy sound of music came again. She looked at Kane. “Let’s clear the rooms. I figure someone’s playing games with us.”
“Roger that.” Kane shadowed her across the room and they cleared the pantry. “No sign of a root cellar entrance in there.”
They checked the two bedrooms and found nothing but old furniture and dust mixed with a good layer of rat droppings.
Jenna slid along the passageway to the family room – and stopped dead. The hairs on the back of her neck stood up and she blinked in disbelief. “T-tell me I’m not s-seeing that.” Horrified, she pointed her Glock toward a rocking chair, creaking back and forth. Beside it on a table was an old electric gramophone playing a record.
“I’m seeing it too.” Kane moved beside her and the chair stopped rocking. He moved to one side of the doorway and it squeaked back into action. “Okay.” He moved to one side again. “The breeze from the kitchen window is moving the chair. The hall is acting like a wind tunnel.”
Jenna swallowed hard. “So how is the record playing? There’s no power to the house.”
“I’ll take a look.” Kane walked across the room, his boots clattering on the bare floorboards, and examined the wiring. “There’s a battery pack with cord running up through the ceiling. I’d say there’s a small solar power unit somewhere on the roof. The record player is set to repeat, so it keeps on playing.” He shrugged. “No ghosts.”
Trying to ignore her pounding heart, Jenna walked over to the front door and pulled it open. “This has been a complete waste of time. Lindy has never been here. I’ll call this in. Grab Duke and we’ll get back on the road.” She glanced at her watch. “Two and a half hours before deadline and we have zip.”
* * *
The sun was heading for the horizon and a promise of a cold night blasted Jenna as she stepped from another old barn and brushed the dust from her clothes. The teams had searched the properties of every possible place. All the ranch owners had willingly allowed them to enter their properties without a search warrant, which was both encouraging and worrying at the same time. If Lindy’s kidnapper did have a place off the grid, he’d be confident and likely act nonchalant, knowing
they couldn’t discover him. The frightening aspect was that none of the search parties had found a trace of Lindy. Worry for the young girl pushed Jenna to keep going without a break. She straightened and dragged weary legs back to Kane’s truck. He’d given Duke a drink of water and glanced up at her as she leaned against the hood and grimaced. “We’ve looked at four places on this side of town and the team have moved their search to cover as many known buildings as possible. It’s like looking for a needle in a haystack.”
Her cellphone signaled a message and she peered at the screen. Waves of horror smashed over her at the displayed text.
Too late.
Eight
Confused and dismayed, Jenna stared at the screen of her cellphone. “It says we’re too late.” She looked at Kane. “There should be an hour left.”
The cellphone beeped again and an image appeared. With shaking hands, she held out the phone for Kane to see the picture of an ashen-faced Lindy, sitting on a moss-covered wooden bench outside an old dilapidated building. “Oh, my God, it’s Lindy.” She handed Kane the phone and rubbed both hands over her face. “And we still don’t know where she is.”
“I recognize this place.” Kane frowned over the screen. “I drove past it with Rowley one day. I’m sure it’s an old schoolhouse some ways from the Triple Z Bar.”
“I’ll call Rowley and get the chopper over there.” Jenna ran around the hood and jumped into the seat. “There’s a chance she could still be alive.”
“I don’t think so.” Kane had enlarged the picture and was shaking his head. His eyes held a tragic expression “There’s something tied around her neck and her lips are blue.” He slid behind the wheel and handed back her phone. “It’s too late, Jenna, and if you want a modicum of dignity for her, call Wolfe to meet us there incognito. If the chopper heads out that way, the media will be crawling all over the place before we get there and we’ll need to preserve as much evidence as possible.”