Chapter Twenty

The gate across the drive at Artie Best’s house was open when Kate drove up. But Artie’s truck was nowhere to be seen. Of course, she didn’t know if it might be parked in the garage on the side of the house or even in one of the barns. Kate stopped her Honda and turned off the engine.

“Okay, I’ve made calls on hundreds of people over the years. This won’t be much different than that, right?” Kate told herself.

She made a quick survey of her surroundings. She wasn’t afraid, but she did have a sense of needing to tread lightly. There was a story here. That house, the bird barns, the new policy about callers, the hope of spotting sparrows who had all but disappeared from sight, even Artie’s not being involved in one of the biggest bird events in many years—it all had to add up to something. She just had to get the pieces right.

The way to get the pieces of her biggest mystery or her daily life together, she knew, was by going to God. With that in mind, she bowed her head for a moment’s prayer. “Father, I go boldly into the world because I know you go with me. I’ll do my best to reflect your love, your justice, and the gift of your salvation. Keep my mind sharp and my heart open as I meet with Artie Best today, and help me represent you to him.”

Kate murmured an “amen,” then got out and walked toward the porch. She noticed alternating yellow and purple mums lining the walkway. Those had to be tended to, and to keep that many of them in good shape, Artie would have had to replant that fall. She’d seen all this on her first visit to the house, but not close enough to really take note of the details.

She went onto the porch, thinking that the place looked more as if it was ready for sale than like the home of a gruff, reclusive fellow like Artie.

She knocked on the frame of the screen door.

A high-pitched screech came from somewhere inside.

Kate startled at the sound, then regrouped, remembering that he kept the exotic birds in his home. She drew a deep breath, then called out, “Mr. Best? Hello? It’s Kate Hanlon.”

A loud squawk rang out. Kate thought of those big, colorful parrots in the movies that were always sitting on a pirate’s shoulder. Confronted with that image, Kate laughed.

She waited patiently, listening to the screeching and squawking.

As she waited, Kate studied the donation and suggestion box, which was attached to the front door. When she peered through the mesh of the screen door into the slot of the box, she was surprised at the amount of wadded-up paper money inside. He must not have emptied the box in quite a while. And he didn’t seem too worried about anyone taking the contents.

She stepped back to get a better look at the total picture and sighed. Coming out there reinforced the impression that there was a lot more to this man than Kate knew. Her gaze fell on the supply barn, and she noticed the door had swung wide open.

That was the barn Artie had padlocked. It certainly wasn’t locked now. She looked around her. The squawking and screeching coming from inside the house had settled down for the most part. On one hand, she didn’t want to snoop around on private property. But perhaps that’s where Artie was.

Kate strode back down the flower-lined walk, across the rutted drive, and up to the supply barn.

It was pitch dark inside. Still, from the other end of the barn came a soft rustling.

“Mr. Best? Are you in there? It’s Kate Hanlon.”

No answer, just more muffled movements from the far end of the barn.

“Artie?” She raised her voice and, to make up for that, tried a more friendly tone.

Still no reply.

Kate drew in a deep breath, taking in the scent of the country air and the dankness in the barn. Before she could speak, a thump and more of the subdued shuffling sound came from somewhere in the darkness.

Kate wasn’t quite sure what to do. Artie had padlocked this barn before, and now it was standing wide open. And what if Artie hadn’t set that trap, but whoever had set it meant to harm him? It might be a long shot, but on the chance that someone might have come out there and done injury to Artie, she had to investigate.

Her heart thudded in her chest. “Artie, is that you?”

Her voice set off a stir of activity, flapping and muffled sounds that didn’t quite sound human but weren’t the distinct kind of racket Artie’s parrots would make. Then came a long, high-pitched creak of the hinge on the barn door at the other end as it opened slightly. All at once, it banged and rattled as it slammed shut.

Kate put her hand on the open door as though that would anchor her against whatever might happen next. But worry for Artie overcame her, and she crept forward. After a few steps, she disappeared into the dark shadows of the musty, old supply barn.

She couldn’t see a thing. After a few seconds, as her eyes adjusted to the light, she could make out the shapes of the birdhouses on one side. From her previous visit, she knew she must be approaching the spot where the pallets of birdseed would be stacked chin high. She reached out her hand to find them, but her hand met empty space.

She took another step and reached out again.

More empty space.

Another step, then a thud as her foot half stepped on the side of a wooden pallet. That threw her off balance, and she pitched forward. Bracing herself for a fall, she stumbled into something waist high and solid, but not too solid.

Suddenly the door at the other end of the barn flew open, and the noise she had heard before swelled up. Shadows flickered and passed across the shaft of light from the open door. That’s when a hand clamped down on her shoulder and a male voice said, “What are you doing here?”