The car pulled over and I heard the door slam just as Theo and I skirted to the rear of the house. “Maybe they didn’t see us,” I said under my breath.
We plastered ourselves against the wall and held still. I tried to think of a credible excuse for trying to get inside the house but it was useless. I’d have to tell all. Then we heard a knock that turned into a pound. The deputies were at the front door. That meant I could unclench my fists.
“The front door probably opens into a foyer with an upstairs door and a downstairs one,” I said. “I hear voices but it’s impossible to understand what anyone’s saying. Want to risk hugging the side of the house and moving closer?”
“No.”
I stood fixed against the house and my body stiffened up. Seconds later a creaking sound signaled the front door being closed. Theo grabbed my wrist. “Stay still.” A few seconds later we heard a car door slam followed by the engine starting up. He let go of my wrist and stepped back. “We can breathe again. They’ve moved farther down the block.” He moved away from the wall and leaned his head toward the right side of the street. “See for yourself.”
“No time to waste. Keep your flashlight on. Even if the electricity is turned on in the house, we don’t dare switch on the lights.”
As we entered what appeared to be a mudroom I wondered if that’s how it felt to be a cat burglar—pent-up energy coupled with excitement. I wanted to shout “Eli! Stuart! Are you here?” but I knew better. People were definitely upstairs. That meant we had to walk slowly and systematically through the place, peering into cupboards, closets, pantries and any other potential hiding spots. I used the word hiding as opposed to the other grim alternative. Other than a small kitchen and living room, there were two bedrooms and a bathroom that would have made Tarek and Christina from Flip or Flop gag.
Nothing. No sign of the boys. Theo kept his voice low and opened the narrow door in the kitchen that led to the basement. He flipped on a switch and motioned for me to follow him, insisting the light from downstairs would hardly be visible to anyone who happened by. He said something about fifteen watts at best and I rolled my eyes.
“Keep this door wide open,” I said. “Last thing we need is to get trapped down there.” Two steps down and something icky brushed the top of my head—cobwebs. “Do you see anything? Can you hear anything?”
“Old furniture and you talking.”
Like the basement in our farmhouse, this one had a dirt floor, too. A dirt floor and even more dust and dirt on the discarded furniture down there: broken chairs, an armoire that was missing its cabinet door, a toppled-over side table, and a few lamps without the shades.
“What else do you see?”
“Not much, it doesn’t look as if— Oh, no.”
“What? Oh no what? What do you see?”
“A huge horizontal freezer.”
In that instant, every single horror movie I’d ever seen came to life in my mind. Suddenly I was woozy and nauseous. “Is it locked? Please don’t tell me it’s locked.”
“There’s a lock on it but it looks as if someone forgot to close it. Maybe they were in a hurry or thought they didn’t need to lock it. Seriously, I don’t think anyone’s used it to store food for a long time.”
“What makes you say that?”
“Because I tripped over the cord. It’s unplugged.”
Salty saliva filled my mouth as I walked closer to the giant monstrosity huddled in the far corner of the basement a few feet from an ancient oil storage container. “We’ve got to lift it open. I can do that, but I’ll do it with my eyes closed.”
“It’s probably piled high and deep with food that went bad three decades ago. Although I don’t smell anything. Maybe those freezers are really airtight.”
“I’ll lift. You look.”
I held my breath and squeezed my eyes shut. “Please don’t tell me what I’m afraid you’re going to tell me.”
“I’m going to tell you that you can open your eyes. There’s nothing perishable in here. Only an opened file folder box that’s jam-packed. See for yourself.”
“Who stores files in a freezer?” I grumbled.
“I don’t know. Someone who can’t afford to buy a file cabinet? Let’s go. Maybe it’s time we should find Deputy Hickman so you can tell him what you know.”
“I suppose you’re right. We’re getting nowhere here. But before we leave, I’m taking some photos of those files. This is Barbara’s house and for all we know those files could implicate her in something. Eli was adamant she said something about financing and payback. We could be looking at the proverbial smoking gun. The one that explains Brewer’s murder.”
“Or old cooking recipes, but what the heck? I’ll snap some shots too.”
Surprisingly, the file folders weren’t old and brittle. They were still malleable, making it easy for Theo and me to open them and take pictures of the correspondence inside.
“I wonder why she didn’t stick this stuff on a flash drive and call it a day?” I asked.
Theo moved a few pieces of paper around and pointed to the dates. “The folders may be new but the contents aren’t. Converting files takes a lot of time. Much easier to stash this stuff in a place where no one’s bound to find it.”
“Except us.”
“Yeah, we seem to have all the luck.”
“Holy cannoli! These seem to be financial agreements between Barbara Stanowicz and a number of different people. But check it out—the witness signature on the bottom of these says Emerson Boyd. And Barbara was the passenger in his car during that fender bender.”
Theo bent down and eyeballed the papers. “Harrumph. I figured Boyd was into something with Frank since an exclusive release from Henry would mean beaucoup bucks for them, but this has nothing to do with wine distribution. Think it’s the same Boyd?”
“It has to be. How many Emerson Boyds are there? Come on, we’d better get the heck out of here.”
I figured if Deputy Hickman wasn’t at Laura Landrow’s house, another deputy would be there and he or she would know where I could find Grizzly Gary. When I pulled up to the corner of Bogart and Main, I saw two sheriff’s cars, both with flashers on. “Might as well get this over with,” I said to Theo.
The off-white split-level house looked surprisingly larger with all of its lights on. I walked quickly for fear I’d lose my nerve. Thankfully Theo was only a foot or two behind me or I might have changed my mind. The door was ajar and a female deputy stood between it and the front steps.
“I need to speak with Deputy Hickman,” I said. “I’m Norrie Ellington from Two Witches Winery and this is Theo Buchman from the Grey Egret winery. We may have information about the missing boys—Eli Speltmore and Stuart Landrow.” Geez, I hope it’s Landrow. I never asked.
“I’m sorry. You just missed him. He’s on his way to the Speltmore residence but I can take down the information. I’ll need your full name, address, email, and phone numbers. I’ll also need to note how you are acquainted with the boys.”
She took out a notepad and pen (haven’t these people caught up with technology yet?), leaned against the doorframe and looked directly at me. The yellowish porch light subdued the features on her oval face but I guessed her to be in her early fifties.
My explanation was clear and succinct, and while I spoke I could hear Laura crying. I glanced over my shoulder and saw her seated at the kitchen table with an older male deputy.
“Eli and Stuart may have put themselves in jeopardy by overhearing a conversation at the house diagonal from the Dresden Hotel,” I said. I then went on to reiterate what the boys told me and the events leading up to it. When I was finally confident I had provided sufficient background and information, I took a long breath. That’s when the deputy replied with the party line—“We’ll take this under advisement.”
“Is it possible for me to speak with Mrs. Landrow for a minute?”
The deputy shook her head. “Only relatives.”
“Okay, then let me ask you something. Were the boys’ bikes found? As I explained, I had an earlier conversation with Eli’s mother and she was fairly certain they biked up the road to my winery, but that wasn’t the case. So, it kind of begs the question, or, um, questions. Are the boys still on their bikes or were the bikes ditched somewhere?”
“I’m sorry, Miss Ellington. Right now, this is a missing child case. Well, children. Our office is not at liberty to disclose any part of the investigation. Thank you for taking the time to share your information.”
“Fine. Please make sure it gets passed on to Deputy Hickman.”
“Understood.”
With that, the deputy stepped inside the house and closed the door behind her. I wouldn’t exactly say it was closed in my face, but close enough.
“That went well,” Theo said. “You were up-front and honest. Now it’s up to them to make good on the info.”
“All they’re going to do is canvass the neighborhood. I’ll swing around by the elementary school and marina for a look before we head home.”
“Then what?”
“I’ll call Delia, try to reassure her that the boys will be found, and then scrutinize those photos we took from those freezer files.”
“We can do that together at our house. Don’s up late. He’s reading a new C. J. Box novel. Besides, he bought a double chocolate cheesecake from the nuns at New Skete and it got delivered today.”
“Say no more. Chocolate is always a decent remedy for frustration.”
I walked back to the car, started the engine, and drove toward the lake. A sheriff’s car pulled past us in the opposite direction as we approached the marina. Theo stretched out his arms, barely missing my head. “I doubt we’ll spot anything they didn’t. And the elementary school couldn’t have been any darker or creepier if it tried.”
“Yeah. At least no one heard me shouting for Eli and Stuart.”
He gave my arm a squeeze and I knew it was time to get out of Dresden and console myself with a slice of double chocolate cheesecake before calling Delia.
“Think they’ll issue an Amber alert?” I asked.
“Nope. Those are only issued when it’s a clear case of abduction. But they could post missing children information on the internet and the radio.”
“It’s a start. Darn it. I was so convinced they were being held in that house.”
“You may be right about them being held, but it’s the where that matters. Not enough credible evidence for Deputy Hickman to track down Barbara and get a search warrant. And heck, you don’t know the name of that guy with the Coors beer.”
“But I can describe him. It’s better than nothing. For the first time since I got here, I really wish Deputy Hickman would call me or pay me a visit at home or at Two Witches.”
“It might come to that. You never know.”