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“It’s not just mine, remember? My brothers and sister own part of it. What we do with it will be a group decision.”
“Doesn’t anyone have a lighter?” Jade suggested, almost kidding. “You could burn it down and collect the insurance money.”
“How do you know about . . . ?” But she didn’t finish the question as she cut the engine. Jade, along with her newfound love of the macabre, was also into every kind of police or detective show that aired on television. Recently she’d discovered true crime as well, the kind of shows in which B-grade actors reenacted grisly murders and the like. Jade’s interests, which seemed to coincide with those of her current boyfriend, disturbed Sarah, but she tried to keep from haranguing her daughter about them. In this case, less was more.
“You should sell out your part of it. Leave it to Aunt Dee Linn and Uncle Joe and Jake to renovate,” Jade said. “Get out while you can. God, Mom, this is just so nuts that we’re here. Not only is this house like something out of a bad horror movie, but it’s in the middle of nowhere.”
She wasn’t that far off. The house and grounds were at least five miles from the nearest town of Stewart’s Crossing, the surrounding neighbors’ farms hidden by stands of fir and cedar. Sarah cut the engine and glanced toward Willow Creek, the natural divide between this property and the next, which had belonged to the Walsh family for more than a hundred years. For a split second she thought about Clint, the last of the Walsh line, who according to Dee Linn and Aunt Marge, was still living in the homestead. She reminded herself sternly that he was not the reason she’d pushed so hard to move back to Stewart’s Crossing.
“Why don’t you just take me back to get my car?” Jade said as Sarah swung the Explorer around to park near the garage.
“Because it won’t be ready for a couple of days. You heard Hal.” They’d left Jade’s Honda with a mechanic in town; it was scheduled to get a new set of tires and much-needed brakes, and Hal was going to figure out why the Civic was leaking some kind of fluid.
“Oh, right, Hal the master mechanic.” Jade was disparaging.
“Best in town,” Sarah said, tossing her keys into her bag. “My dad used him.”
“Only mechanic in town. And Grandpa’s been gone a long time, so it must’ve been eons ago!”
Sarah actually smiled. “Okay, you got me there. But the place was updated from the last time I was there. Lots of electronic equipment and a couple of new mechanics on staff.”
To her amazement, Jade’s lips twitched as well, reminding Sarah of the younger, more innocent girl she’d been such a short while ago. “And a lot of customers.”
“Must be bad car karma right now,” Sarah agreed. There had been an older woman with her little dog and two men, all having problems with their vehicles; the little group had filled the small reception area of the garage.
“Is there ever such a thing as good car karma?” Jade asked, but she seemed resigned to her fate of being without wheels for awhile. Good.
Until recently, Jade had been a stellar student. She had a high IQ and had had a keen interest in school; in fact, she had breezed through any number of accelerated classes. Then, about a year ago, she’d discovered boys, and her grades had begun to slip. Now, despite the fact that it might be a bit passé, Jade was into all things Goth and wildly in love with her boyfriend, an older kid who’d barely graduated from high school and didn’t seem to give a damn about anything but music, marijuana, and, most likely, sex. A pseudo-intellectual, he’d dropped out of college and loved to argue politics.
Jade thought the sun rose and set on Cody Russell.
Sarah was pretty sure it didn’t.
“Come on, let’s go,” she told her daughters.
Jade wasn’t budging. She dragged her cell phone from her purse. “Do I have to?”
“Yes.”
“She’s such a pain,” Gracie said in a whisper. At twelve, she was only starting to show some interest in boys, and still preferred animals, books, and all things paranormal to the opposite sex, so far at least. Blessed with an overactive imagination and, again, keen intelligence, Gracie too was out of step with her peers.
“I heard that.” Jade messed with her phone.
“It is kinda creepy, though,” Gracie admitted, leaning forward as the first drops of rain splashed against the windshield.
“Beyond creepy!” Jade wasn’t one to hold back. “And . . . Oh, God, don’t tell me we don’t get cell service here.” Her face registered complete mortification.
“It’s spotty,” Sarah said.
“God, Mom, what is this? The Dark Ages? This place is . . . it’s horrible. Blue Peacock Manor, my ass.”
“Hey!” Sarah reprimanded sharply. “No swearing. Remember? Zero.”
“But, Jesus, Mom—”
“Again?” Sarah snapped. “I just said no.”
“Okay!” Jade flung back, then added, a little more calmly, “Come on, Mom. Admit it. Blue Peacock is a dumb name. It even sounds kind of dirty.”
