she didn’t see any now. There were manure piles on the porch and in the grass.
A warped picnic table in the front yard had been upended and rubbed on by cows until the wooden slats had become fuzzy with hair.
She didn’t like the feeling she got from the old house, and she wondered if it was somehow more welcoming to Franny during a sultry summer evening than it was now. Cassie couldn’t understand why Franny would want to go inside, even if it was with an uncle who she seemed to like. Unless Franny had a dark side Cassie wasn’t aware of.
She reached in and turned off her engine and pocketed the key fob. Not that she was worried about someone stealing her rental car, but she didn’t want to run the risk of a “smart” feature locking the vehicle with the keys in it. Cassie didn’t want to be stuck on the Iron Cross Ranch at night by herself.
*
After photographing the structure from the front and sides, she climbed the steps to the front porch. Cassie was startled when several rabbits shot out from beneath the porch in different directions. Then she was embarrassed for being so jumpy.
Before entering, Cassie carefully observed the open front door. The top and middle hinges were broken off and it hung precariously open and to the side by the bottom one. It looked like it had been open for many months, maybe even years.
We stopped the car in front of the porch and Uncle Blake got out and asked me to follow him. The door to the house was unlocked and he went in first …
That was a discrepancy in Franny’s account, she thought. Franny indicated the door was closed but unlocked. She’d made a point of saying that.
But careful examination of the doorjamb indicated the hinges weren’t recently pulled away from the wood. The indentations where the screws had been were the same barn wood gray as the rest of the frame.
She took several photographs of the open door and door frame, but she really didn’t think the discrepancy would turn out to be significant. Franny was fifteen, a little confused by what her uncle had in mind, and her recollection of that night was following a very traumatic experience. If she got the door wrong it probably didn’t mean much.
*
Cassie clicked on the Maglite and opened the beam up wide before stepping across the threshold. Although the scene had no doubt been photographed, dusted, and examined by local crime scene techs, she stayed close to the interior walls rather than to walk into the center of the room.
Although crime scene tape had been removed (if it had ever been there at all), the floor of the dining room told a story in itself. The thick carpet of dust mixed with manure was a maelstrom of footprints and drag marks from law enforcement. A thin layer of new dust since the summer added a veneer, but the prints were numerous. She thought that within the many tracks were prints that could be matched with Blake’s and Franny’s shoes.
She took dozens of shots of the floor from several angles, although she doubted they’d be of any value.
Uncle Blake lit a candle thing called a kerosene lamp and put it on the table. He said he wanted me to see all the old rooms but I said I was kind of scared….
Then Uncle Blake came around to my side of the table and lifted me up. He was strong. He sat me on top of the table and started kissing me. He has really fast hands and he was touching me everywhere. He stood there between my legs and held me in place.
There was the table Fanny had described, right in the middle of the room. It was old and stout, and unlike the counters and furniture it wasn’t covered in a quarter-inch of dust and grime. That’s because, she reasoned, Franny’s clothes had wiped it clean as Blake molested her. The thought made Cassie cringe.
The vintage kerosene lamp Franny had mentioned was on the kitchen counter next to a dented metal tin of kerosene fuel. Cassie didn’t know if Blake had moved it before the assault or the investigators had put it aside. It didn’t matter other than to further corroborate Franny’s account.
The liquor bottle and drinking glasses Blake had used had been taken away and were now in the evidence locker of the sheriff’s department. She’d seen them. But she’d also wondered