Holding Out For A Hero: SEALs, Soldiers, Spies, Cops, FBI Agents and Rangers (159 page)

Griff didn’t show any bravado in his gesture, just reality.

Dougray peered at the badge. “Bloody hell. You’re a cop?”

“Federal marshal.” Griff gathered up the wallet and returned it to his pocket. “Tell us what you discovered.”

Dougray messed with the pepper shaker, twirling it around in his hands. “The Bennets and Jorgenson’s live on the east side of the street. They each have two acres.”

“They can see the other property easily when they’re that spread out?” Cassie asked.

Dougray met her gaze. “No. When they’ve driven by their they’ve seen a lot of strange things over the years.”

“How long have they lived there?” Griff asked.

“Both families have lived there over twenty years.” Dougray pushed the pepper shaker aside and started messing with the salt shaker.

“And?” Impatience laced Griff’s voice.

Dougray hesitated, his attention wavering from Cassie to Griff. “Both families said the day my sister disappeared the roses out front bloomed. In the middle of winter. They were too damned scared to go over there and see how or why the plants bloomed.”

Cassie swallowed hard. “Has anyone investigated how or why the plants are that way?”

Dougray grunted. “I tried to ask the sheriff just outside of Bowmount and he laughed his ass off. Said he’d never heard of such a thing and that I was mental. Said I had a lot of cheek coming into the area and telling him how to do his job. This was after I blew up at him. Told him he’d bungled my sister’s disappearance case.”

“I’m sure that helped.” Cassie couldn’t keep the sarcasm out of her tone.

Dougray didn’t seem deterred by what she’d said. “The people across the street went to the cops when they saw strange things going on over at the house, and they even had a paranormal investigation team come over last year.”

Griff snorted. “Waste of time.”

She threw him an irritated look, then turned back to Dougray. “Did they find anything?”

“We couldn’t get permission for them to enter the property. No one can even find out who owns the place now.”

Skepticism reared its head inside Cassie. She sipped her coffee and said, “That doesn’t make sense. Someone must know who owns the property now.”

“If this was such a big deal, how come it hasn’t made the news?” Griff asked after taking a bite of his food.

Dougray’s expression remained etched with determination. “I know. It sounds like a load of rubbish.”

“Then maybe it is. People like to create these urban legends to scare the shit out of themselves around a campfire.” Griff’s voice held a hard edge, as if he didn’t want to hear anymore of the paranormal angle.

Irritated, Cassie asked, “I thought you wanted to hear what he found out.”

Dougray barrelled onward. “The paranormal investigation was in the newspapers for about a day. The media, in its infinite wisdom, decided it was somehow a hoax. They didn’t come out here to see for themselves. I tried contacting scientists I thought might be interested. People with an open mind. They ignored me.” Dougray’s voice, though kept low, had a desperate tone to it. “I’ve tried everything to find out what happened to my sister. I’m taking it into my own hands because no one gives a rot.”

Disconcerted, Cassie glanced at Griff. His eyes were hard and unforgiving.

“If all that’s true, what have you found out since you started investigating on your own?” Griff asked.

Dougray started to answer, but the waitress interrupted and took away their plates. She left a bill, and Cassie snatched it since she didn’t plan to allow Griff to pay for this meal, too.

Dougray gave them both a penetrating look, as if he expected them to have answers to a serious matter. “I haven’t found out a thing.”

“There you have it then,” Griff said. “Maybe there isn’t anything to find.”

No trace of the smarmy Dougray remained. “How can you say that? You were in the house, right?”

“Yes,” Cassie said.

“What did you see in there?” Dougray glared at her. “What did you see?”

Griff jumped in. “A piece of junk house. Dust. Decay.”

“Nothing else?” Dougray’s eyes were piercing, challenging.

“Nothing.” Griff’s single word sounded final.

Cassie threw Griff a glare. “That’s not entirely true. We saw someone walking around in the house. But when we went in we couldn’t find anyone. And it’s not that big of a place. We’ve seen the roses bloom and then die. It’s a weird house.”

Dougray watched them both. “Why did he say nothing happened? Why are you lying, Griffin?”

Griff took a deep breath. “I’m not lying. I just believe there’s an explanation for it all.”

Dougray stood slowly. “The explanation is the place is evil.”

He turned away and left.

After the man was out of earshot, Cassie asked, “Why did you say nothing happened?”

“I didn’t say
nothing
happened. I said that it wasn’t
paranormal
.”

Cassie couldn’t stop the frustration. “And where do you think the person in the house hid? What’s your logical explanation for that?”

“Maybe the attic. I should have looked up there.” Griff’s expression softened.

Disappointed, she decided she’d had enough for the day. She threw money on the table, her fatigue still bothering here. “Breakfast is on me. I need to take another nap. Later.”

“Cassie, wait.”

She waited, but he didn’t say anything immediately, just looked at her as if he wanted to understand.

“You’re angry,” he said.

“I’m tired and confused. I need sleep.”

She walked away, low in spirits and angry at herself for caring.

* * *

“There ain’t a thing wrong with your car, sir,” the mechanic said as he wiped his hands on a cloth.

Griff stared at the Charger’s open hood, and then the grizzled old mechanic as they stood in the man’s car repair business. “You’re sure?”

The man tucked the greasy rag in a back pocket of his overalls and scratched the gray stubble on his chin. “Son I’ve been fixing cars like this for over forty-five years. And this ain’t one of those new hopped up things with a lot of computerized junk in it. I can even fix those. Had to take a lot of extra training and it cost me a mint. But I knew if I wanted to keep up with things I had to. I prefer to work on these older cars, though. Come apocalypse, these are the only damn things that’ll be running.”

Griff almost rolled his eyes, but instead resorted to a tight smile. “Thanks, Mr. Tracy. I appreciate you doing this for me. I couldn’t find anything, but I’m not a full-fledged mechanic. I thought maybe I’d missed something.”

“The way the car was acting, I can’t believe there isn’t something wrong with it.”

“Well, maybe you got some water in the gas or something,” the older man said, his tone dismissive.

“Huh. Maybe.”

Mr. Tracy lifted one thick eyebrow and tilted his baseball cap back on his head. He glanced around the ramshackle garage. “I run an honest business here Mr. Griffin. And I ain’t just saying that because you’re a cop.”

“I’m a marshal.”

“Same difference. I just don’t want nobody thinking I’m running a jip joint.”

Griff frowned, not sure how he’d gone from thanking Mr. Tracy to the man thinking he was accusing him of ill deeds. “Everyone assured me you’re the best mechanic in town. Penny said you’ve been fixing her cars her entire life.”

“That’s right.” Pride entered the man’s voice. “Taught my son the same skills. He’s a mechanic in Estes Park. Don’t know why he’d want to move there, though. I’ve got plenty of work here to do.”

“I’m sure you have.” Griff smoothed over hard feelings. “What do I owe you?”

Mr. Tracy waved his hands in dismissal. “You don’t owe me nothing. Ain’t anything wrong with the car.”

“I need to pay you for checking the car.”

“Nah. Even if you wasn’t a cop I don’t charge customers if there ain’t anything wrong.”

Puzzled, Griff said, “Even if I wasn’t a cop? What does being law enforcement have to do with it?”

The man’s gray eyes went misty, his mouth suddenly wobbling with emotion. Griff frowned, worried the old guy would break down.

“My son was a cop out in Oregon. My other son that wasn’t the mechanic. Danny was my eldest. He uh…he was a cop in Seattle. Got shot and killed four years ago.”

Regret smacked Griff square in the gut. “I’m sorry for your loss, Mr. Tracy.”

The mechanic nodded and cleared his throat. “I’ve always respected the police, even before my boy became one. And I’ve got the biggest bullshit meter of anyone I know. I can see you’re an honorable man.”

Griff smiled. “Thanks. But really, I’d like to pay you something for your trouble.”

Once more the old man waved a hand. “No.”

Inspiration hit Griff. “I have another question.”

Mr. Tracy adjusted his baseball cap. “Yeah? What would that be?”

“I’ve got a few questions about that old ranch-style house up on the hill…near the Point. You know which one I’m talking about?”

Mr. Tracy huffed. “Who doesn’t? Place is bad news. Why you asking?”

Griff was glad the old man didn’t have any other customers around. “A friend of mine…” Griff decided midstream to come clean with the man in case the old coot’s bullshit meter did work as well as he claimed. “I’ve been by there several times with a friend. The damned roses up there bloom and die and bloom again. Sometimes all within one day. One time they were smashed into the ground like they were run over by a vehicle. Have you ever heard of that?”

The mechanic didn’t look the least surprised. “Haven’t witnessed it myself. Never had a want to go up there. Lots of rich people built their damn houses up that way over the years.”

Griff ignored the rich people statement. “So you don’t believe the roses change like that?”

The old man shrugged. “My boys saw it happen once when they were teenagers. They took their car up to the Point. You know there’s that area where boys and girls can…well…park?”

Griff zipped up his coat against the chilly wind that blew past the garage door. “I saw that.”

“Well, the boys took their girlfriends up there one night. When they got home at midnight…that were their curfew, they were white as sheets and telling my wife and I that the ranch house was haunted. Normally I would have thought they were full of shit and playing me for a fool. But I never saw those boys that afraid before or since. They said they wouldn’t go up there again.”

“They didn’t say what they saw?”

Griff swallowed hard and pursed his lips. He rubbed at his bristly chin again. “They stopped their car in front of the house. The girls dared them to pull into the driveway, so they did. Nobody was living there at the time. Leastways there weren’t supposed to be anybody living there. My boy, the one that became a cop, he was the skeptical one. He went along with the dare and knocked on the door.” Mr. Tracy rubbed the back of his neck. “Now here’s where the story gets dicey, and I wouldn’t blame anyone for not believing it.”

“I’m listening.”

“Well, the boys say the door opened wide and there was this old man there…a guy a damned sight older than me. They said he looked about a hundred. Wrinkled. Smelly. With black teeth. Anyway, this old guy invited them in. But they said they were so afraid, that there was something inside them that said if they stepped in there they’d never get out. One of the girls thought it would be funny to take the old guy up on his offer and stepped inside. The old guy grabbed her arm and she started screaming. My boys and the other girl latched onto her and they played hell to get that old bastard to let go of that girl. They ran back to the car. The girl had these weird burns on her arm…well, I’m getting ahead of myself. They could hardly get the car started and this old guy was laughing at them. A cackle, they said. It was around Halloween, so they’re thinking maybe this bastard that grabbed the girl is playing a trick on them.”

Caught up in the man’s story, Griff asked, “They got the car started?”

“Yeah, they got it started and drove outta there fast. The girl who the old guy grabbed was losing her dinner by that time and her arm looked like it had second degree burns. They drove her straight to the hospital in town. She had burns on her arms in the shape of that creep’s fingers if you can believe that crap. She was so messed up they kept her in the hospital for a night and then had to send her to the mental institution in Pueblo for a stay.”

Griff put his hands on his hips. “Did the police check out the house?”

“Yep. Said my boys must of done it to the girl because there wasn’t nobody in the house. Not a damned soul. The girls defended my boys but the police didn’t believe them. The girls refused to press charges even though their parents wanted them to. My boys were damned lucky they weren’t sent up to jail for that. Can’t say I blame the cops for thinking ill of the boys…but my sons never would hurt a girl. They’d sooner cut their own arms off.”

Not long ago Griff would have thought Mr. Tracy’s story was an utter fantasy. Now he wasn’t sure. “That’s some story, Mr. Tracy.”

“Did your car stop in front of that damned hell house?”

Surprised the old man had picked up on the truth, Griff acknowledged it. “How did you guess?”

The older man shrugged. “Good guess. Or you wouldn’t have asked about the place. Especially since you’re from out of town. My advice is stay away from the place. Stay away.”

Griff shook hands with Mr. Tracy. “I’ll take that under advisement.”

Griff left Tracy’s Auto Repair with the Charger purring under him, driving as smoothly as it had when he’d first arrived in Bowmount. Tires hissed over the damp road. The temperature had reached into the mid fifties and melted any hint of snow except for the higher mountain points around the town. Puddles of water remained, and he flicked on the wipers as cars drove by on the opposite side of the road and splashed the vehicle with dirty water.

Confusion rattled Griff, and his mind raced. Too many thoughts bartered for his attention. He wanted to take the old man’s advice to stay away from the freaky house on the hill. Another part of him had never been good at taking orders. He’d needed the marines to bring him into line, give him a discipline he didn’t have before. His father’s relentless attempts to bring him into line hadn’t worked.