Last Girls Alive (Detective Katie Scott #4) - Jennifer Chase Page 0,1
but that didn’t make it any easier. One of them had to stay. It would soon be over. It all would be over.
Candace hugged Tanis tight. Whispering in her ear, she said, “I love you and I’ll be back.” She gave her a long look before she turned and ran.
Tanis watched her friend move quickly into the shadowed night—and soon disappear altogether.
I love you and I’ll be back.
One
Five years later
Monday 0730 hours
The diesel engines of the earthmovers and bulldozers roared as they prowled like metal predators on top of the hill and through five acres of dense trees surrounding the mansion. The massive tires left deep grooves in the soil, still sodden after extensive bouts of rain, and various attachments worked to smooth out the terrain and keep rain runoff to a minimum in preparation for demolishing the house.
Loud voices yelled back and forth across the property, directing the action. Three metal containers, each forty feet long or more, sat on the far side of the estate, housing tools, supplies, and some of the more valuable interior pieces of the house such as doors, light fixtures, crown molding, fireplaces, and various pieces of shiplap wood. The new owner, Magnum Development, Incorporated, wanted to save anything that would bring in any extra money, no matter how small. They planned on building three luxury-spec homes on the impressive landscape that would garner more than two and a half million if they could only fight the rainfall and correct the slipping landscape. It was highlighted as a “special project” that they had taken on in addition to more lucrative ventures, but there was still a comfortable profit margin to be had.
Built in 1895 but left abandoned for the last two years, what remained of the house was still known to most around Pine Valley as Elm Hill Mansion. It used to be a safe haven for fostered teenage girls, but now looked more like the façade of a haunted house at a Halloween carnival. Four years earlier, the foster home, which had been a private philanthropy project, had been disbanded by the county and state authorities who had little or no budget to maintain the project after allegations of abuse. The house had repairs and indications that it potentially wasn’t safe. The remaining girls were relocated to other homes and soon thereafter the investigation had fizzled and the large house sat vacant.
The historical mansion, with more than 2,000 square feet of livable space, included five bedrooms, two living areas, a parlor, storage, and a library area that had been reduced to a pitiful crumbling mess of empty shelves over the years.
A panicked cry from outside stopped several workers in their tracks as they wrenched a rotting wooden fireplace from the wall. Among them, in jeans, a red flannel shirt and hard hat, was Bob Bramble, the foreman in charge of the project. He looked around, angry at the interruption and keen to get back to work.
“Boss!” yelled one of the employees. “Hey, boss!” the man yelled again, more urgently.
One by one, the booming sound of engines ceased, leaving the area strangely quiet.
“Yeah,” Bob said as one of his men jogged up to him. “What is it?”
“We can’t get the crowd to leave.”
“What crowd?” he growled and craned his neck to see half a dozen people with handmade signs saying “Keep the Elm Hill Mansion” and “Keep the historical house” headed their way. “Oh, brother. Get them out of here,” he barked. “We have a job to do! I’m not going to get behind because of a group of idiots.”
“But what if they don’t leave?” asked the worker, looking at the crowd with a worried expression.
“Then… call the cops.”
At the same time, one of the bulldozer drivers jumped from his cab and ran toward them. His face pale, panic in his eyes. “Boss!” he yelled as he increased speed. “BOSS!”
“Crap,” the foreman muttered. “Now what?” he snapped as the driver ran over to him.
“There’s… it’s…”
“Spit it out, Chris… tell me what’s going on.”
“We found… it’s horrible, sir…”
Bramble grabbed Chris’s arm and gave him a little shake. “Show me. We don’t have time for this shit.”
The men hurried to the far side of the property where several trenches had been dug. Two other workers were standing side by side staring down the hillside—not moving.
“What’s going on here?” Bramble demanded.
One of the men slowly pointed his index finger without saying a word.
Bramble stepped to the edge of the pit and peered downward.