The Spite House(27)

“I see. You know, I noticed when I was looking up info on the house before I came here, there’s actually not much about it online. Are people here just that afraid to talk about it or write about it? Or is that maybe Eunice’s influence? I read an article that said she basically has a stranglehold on the town.”

“Really? Do you remember who wrote it? I’m sure Miss Houghton would like to have them assassinated, being the tyrant that she is.”

“I’m serious.”

“You’re overthinking it,” Dana said. “She has some sway. She has a big voice and likes to be heard, metaphorically speaking. But she doesn’t have to tell people not to talk about one thing or another, and this house, especially. The town came to that agreement all on its own even before she was born.”

You’re either not telling the whole truth, or that means these people are hiding something. Ashamed of something, he thought. “Okay, okay. I’m sorry if I sounded a little suspicious.”

“More than a little.”

“Again, I’m sorry,” he said. “I think it’s just really hitting me right now that I’m committing to this. You see some guys who can’t stand to be in here another minute, it makes the idea of spending several weeks here a bit daunting.”

“Listen, Miss Houghton gave all of our phone numbers to you, right? She didn’t do that just to do it,” Dana said. “Call her anytime, I mean it. God knows she’ll call you or Odessa anytime she might feel like it, at least if she treats you two how she treats me. Seriously, if it’s an emergency, if you’re concerned, or if you just want to run something by her, call. She’d rather you do that than walk off the job. And if it’s something urgent, if she doesn’t answer, call me. If I don’t answer, call Lafonda.”

“And if none of you answers, that’s when I have permission to call the police?”

Dana shook her head and told him, “We both know that the only one who’ll keep you from calling the cops is you.”

The lack of any threat in her tone or expression made her sound more dangerous and knowing. Like it would be routine for her to turn any information she had on him against him. She didn’t need to have much, just the confidence that he was wary of involving law enforcement. He’d told Eunice that he wasn’t running from anything criminal in his past, but if Eunice had shared that with Dana, Dana clearly disbelieved it. Now she had effectively called him out.

“Do you think you’re good from here?” she said, as friendly as when she’d introduced herself yesterday. “You’ve got your debit cards, you’ve got our numbers, am I forgetting anything? Our other guys should have all your things from the motel here in about an hour. I’d stay but business calls.”

“We’re good,” he said.

“If you do need anything, like I said, just call and someone’ll be here.”

He walked her downstairs and to the front door, a minor courtesy he thought necessary after their exchange. He was walking a line so thin it might not even be there. He wanted Eunice and her partners to believe he wasn’t as bound to this situation as they might have thought. It was the best opportunity for them, but not something he wouldn’t give up if he absolutely had to. At the same time he needed Eunice’s trust, and needed to be more careful going forward with what he said, or insinuated, to Dana.

What if she reported back to Eunice that he had accused her of being Degener’s despot? What if Eunice was so offended she evicted them? What then? They had an agreement, but not a contract. Nothing in writing, and even if they’d had one, who would he go to, to have it enforced? He had no recourse. They would be back on the road, he would be back to hunting for off-the-books jobs, never knowing when the money might dry up, or when they might get pulled over, or when they’d be found out. If that happened, he wouldn’t be able to protect Stacy, not if other people knew the truth about her. She would be taken away, treated like a lost child at best, an object to be studied at worst.

As he returned to the third floor he heard a door creak and close. Stacy’s bedroom door was partially open, as he’d left it, but the door to the “floating” hallway that led to the bathroom was shut. It must have been Dess. She had come down the hall to see if he was still there talking to Dana, probably to eavesdrop as well.

He couldn’t be upset with her for it. It was the prudent thing to do. Not that he had kept anything too important from her since they had left home. Hiding the depth of their money troubles was the only major, true deceit that came to mind, and he knew now that had been a mistake, though he hadn’t admitted it to her yet. The other things he hadn’t told her about—his grandfather’s grim past, and why he actually wanted to return to the city of Odessa—weren’t her burden to bear. Once he found out more, and if he could break those secrets down into smaller, lighter fragments, then he might share them with her.

Still, he couldn’t blame her for having suspicions when he had so many as well. Later, probably after Stacy was asleep, he would talk with Dess and reassure her that he would never—

No footsteps.

The thought clicked into place and took prominence in his mind, though he could not quite understand why.

I walked that hall with Dana yesterday and heard every step clear as day. If Dess was just in there—