Page 76 of Forever Dead

It had been the wind.

Or her imagination.

She had spent the drive listening to a woman describe a nine-foot creature watching her farmhouse. Now she was standing outside the home of a murdered teacher beneath an October moon.

The year’s most macabre month was letting itself be known. At least to Selena, that was how it felt as the shutter struck the wall again.

This time the sound that followed was closer to a cry.

Selena stared through the doorway.

"Hello?"

Nothing.

Then footsteps crossed somewhere inside.

Three quick boards.

Stop.

Selena's grip tightened around the cane.

Killers sometimes returned to crime scenes. Some wanted to watch the investigation. Some came back because memory was not enough and they wanted the place itself.

If that was what she was hearing, going inside without a weapon would be reckless.

The sound came again. That low, intermittent wail.

What if someone was hurt?

Selena waited another few seconds. No siren or headlights on the drive.

"Hello? I’m with the FBI… Sheriff's department has been called."

The wailing rose, then faded.

She climbed the porch.

Every part of her professional judgment told her to stay outside.

Selena entered anyway.

The flashlight beam moved along the hallway.

The house no longer resembled the scene in Arnold's photographs. The numbered evidence markers had been collected after processing, and the broken chair had been removed as evidence. Without the work lights, cameras and technicians, the rooms seemed larger and emptier.

The cane tapped softly against the floor.

Selena stopped.

A step sounded toward the rear.

She followed.

"Is somebody there?"

No answer.