The backyard was a patchwork of bare ground and weeds. A set of tire tracks led back toward the front of the house and presumably the driveway. There was a shed, a detached garage, both derelict, nearly falling down. A rickety wooden pier standing on rotten pilings extended over the bayou, two rusty light poles flanking the end of it.
He registered all this in the seconds it took him to reach the back door. It was unlocked and opened directly into the kitchen. He swept it with his pistol. It was a pig sty. Garbage and empty food containers were everywhere. The sink was filled with grease-filmed, opaque water. On the dining table, in addition to several empty TV dinner trays on which a cockroach was feeding, were a box of wooden toothpicks, a pair of eyeglasses, and a wadded-up lottery ticket.
Wiley came in through the door that connected to the front of the house and shook his head. “Clear.” But Shaw pointed out the items on the table. The lottery ticket was a giveaway. Josh had bought one in the convenience store.
Shaw motioned for Wiley to stay where he was to cover both the front and back doors and tipped his head toward a hallway leading off the kitchen, pointing to himself. Wiley nodded. Shaw crept along the hall till he came to a doorway standing ajar. He nudged it open with the barrel of his pistol then rushed in swiftly but silently.
The window shades were pulled, making the room dim. It was minimally furnished. A twin bed with dingy sheets had been left unmade. An oscillating fan sat still on the nightstand, although the room could have used an airing. Dirty clothing was piled on the floor in one corner. Army khakis were among the other articles.
Shaw backed out without disturbing anything. Farther along the hall was another bedroom. It was vacant. There were no footprints in the thick layer of dirt on the floor. The bathroom between the two bedrooms was tiny. The shower stall was black with mold. The stained toilet stank of backed-up sewage. But the sink had been recently used. The bottom of it still had drops of water in it, and a damp towel had been folded over the rim.
He returned to the kitchen and reported to Wiley what he’d noted in the bathroom. “We can’t be too far behind him. Or someone.”
Not that he thought Wiley had overlooked either of the fugitives, but he wanted to see the front rooms for himself, and going through them was also the shortest route back to check on Jordie.
The kitchen doorway led into a formal dining area, empty except for a light fixture that was dangling from the ceiling by a cord. The living room beyond was also unfurnished, in total disrepair, and provided no hiding place. Planks in the hardwood floor were missing, but none of the gaps was large enough for a man to fit through. Besides, he’d just checked beneath the house. No one was hiding there.
He went through the front door and stepped onto the porch. Looking anxious, Jordie scrambled out of the car. He motioned her back. “This is his lair, all right. He’s definitely been here, but there’s no sign of him now.” Living, he thought. He was afraid of what he and Wiley might find in one of the outbuildings. “Stay here.”
“I want to see.”
He shook his head. “It’s a mess. Nasty. Holes in the floor. Unsafe.”
“Where are you going?”
“To check the shed and garage around back. Same rules apply. Lay down on the horn.”
Jordie waited until they disappeared around the back corner of the house, then came out from behind the car door and started for the house. She told herself that they might have missed a clue as to where Josh could be now, but her real reason for wanting to inspect the place herself was Shaw’s evasiveness. What hadn’t he wanted her to see?
She pushed open the front door, then paused on the threshold and surveyed the front rooms with dismay. She walked through them quickly and went into the kitchen where she remembered her great-aunt serving her and Josh Christmas cookies and punch.
She was appalled by what she saw now. Had her brother’s mental state deteriorated to complete and total madness? How could he possibly live in this filth? Did he even recognize it as squalor?
Realizing that investigators would soon be summoned to collect evidence, she didn’t touch anything, not that she would have. The bathroom was more sickening than the kitchen.
The sight of the disordered bedroom filled her with despair. When Josh had finally been released from his year’s stay in the hospital, he was welcomed home with a newly decorated bedroom. Their mother had hoped that the surprise would boost his spirits. It hadn’t, of course.
The comparison between that bright, newly outfitted bedroom to this sad chamber was an allegory of Josh’s tragic and inexorable decline.
She returned to the kitchen. Through the window, she saw Wiley emerging from what appeared to be a work shed, while Shaw was bent down looking beneath a ramshackle pier. He would be upset with her for not obeying the rules.
She returned to the front porch and went down the steps. There she paused to look back at the house’s façade and wondered why it had fascinated Josh. What about it had intrigued him enough to make him want to return? It wasn’t pretty. It wasn’t that large. The design was—
Suddenly she was struck by an incongruity.
Two gabled windows, symmetrically placed, jutted from the sloped roofline above the porch, but the house didn’t have a second story. Or did it? Had she missed the stairs?
Puzzled, she went back inside, but it was as she’d thought. There wasn’t a staircase where normally one would ascend from the living area to the second floor. She knew there wasn’t one in the back of the house, or off the kitchen, because she would have seen it.
Standing in the center of the floor between the living room and dining area, she made a slow pivot. Taking in architectural details she hadn’t paid attention to before, she noticed a narrow doorway in the corner of the dining room, concealed by its fit into the paneling and wainscoting.
The hair on the back of her neck stood on end.
She should alert Shaw.
Instead, she went over to the door and pushed it inward.