Promise Not To Tell(35)

The big house was a three-story stone-and-wood monstrosity that had been built back in the previous century. It sat at the end of a long, mostly-washed-out drive. It was a structure that, thanks to its location in a long valley, never saw much daylight even in high summer. Now, at the end of a Pacific Northwest winter, it existed in shades of twilight.

Virginia studied the house with a grim expression. “It looks like something out of a horror movie.”

“One with a bad ending,” Cabot said.

He drove between the twin stone pillars that marked the front of the drive. The remains of the old gate sagged on rusted-out hinges.

“I remember the gate was always locked and guarded,” Virginia said. “Zane told us it was for our own protection.”

“The first rule in establishing a cult is to isolate your followers,” Cabot said.

“He was a total sociopath.”

“Oh, yeah.”

Cabot brought the SUV to a halt in the clearing. He and Virginia sat silently for a moment, contemplating the ugly house.

“This is where it all started,” Cabot said. “Hard to believe so many people fell for his lies.”

“You’re hoping to find some clue to the identity of the new owner, aren’t you?”

“That would definitely be interesting.”

He grabbed his windbreaker and the holstered gun off the back seat, opened the door and got out.

Virginia collected her parka and joined him at the front of the big SUV.

“I don’t want to tell you your business,” she said, “but this is technically private property.”

“Don’t worry, I’m not going to break in. I just want to take a look around. But if someone does happen to show up, we are a couple of city people who got lost out here in the country. Our GPS isn’t working so we stopped to ask for directions.”

“Okay, I guess that sounds sort of reasonable. Do you do this kind of thing a lot?”

“No, but I’m still new at the private investigation business. Did it a lot in my last job, though.”

“That would be when you were a police chief?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Did you really get fired from that position?”

“Long story.”

“Which means you’re not going to tell me, right?”

“Maybe some other time.”

He walked across the weed-covered clearing to the front door of the old house. Virginia trailed after him.

He went up the steps and rapped several times on the front door. Not surprisingly, there was no response. The gleam of untarnished metal caught his eye. He looked down at the door handle.

“New lock,” he said.

“The new owner probably had new locks installed to discourage transients and squatters from moving in.”

“Either that or he’s planning on spending some time here.”

“I doubt he’s doing that yet,” Victoria said. “If this place has been standing empty for several years, it can’t possibly be fit for habitation. The new owner will have to do a lot of work. Probably needs new wiring, for starters. The kitchen and bathrooms will have to be renovated.”

“Depends on what the new owner intends to do with the place,” Cabot said.

She watched him come down the front steps and go to the nearest window.

“You’re really suspicious about the new owner, aren’t you?” she said.

“It’s the timing that bothers me. Why, after years of sitting in foreclosure, did someone decide to buy it now?”

“We have to allow for the possibility that someone figured it was a steal and picked it up with the idea of remodeling it and selling it at a profit.” She looked past him toward the main house. “I hate this place.”

“I’m not real fond of it myself.”

“I wonder if the new owner knows that it once housed a murderous sociopath and his cult,” Virginia said.

“Good question,” Cabot said.

The windows were all shrouded by faded curtains. He could see very little of the interior.

“I’m going to take a look around back,” he said. “Why don’t you wait in the car? It will be warmer.”

“All right.”

She went back to the SUV, opened the passenger-side door and angled herself onto the seat. She left the door open and watched him with a brooding, anxious look.

It occurred to Cabot that it might have been a big mistake to bring her with him today. On the other hand, he doubted that he could have talked her into staying in Seattle. She was in this thing with him. They had only been in each other’s company for a very short time, but he already knew her well enough to know she was going to stick with him until it was finished.

He rounded the back of the house and went cautiously up the rotting steps of the rear porch. The sight of the outside door of the covered woodshed made his stomach knot. One of the duties that he and the other boys had been assigned was stacking logs and hauling them into the house through the door inside the shed that opened onto a mudroom.

He went down the length of the porch to the kitchen door. There were no curtains on the window. There was no indication that any remodeling had been started.

The old-fashioned kitchen was in serious disrepair. But there was a small pile of empty energy drink cans on the counter near the sink. The new owner had evidently been visiting his property.