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“How is she? Torin asked. “I haven’t seen her in forever.”
“She’s well,” he said. “I didn’t realize you knew her.”
“Only by scent, we’ve never formally met, but I have seen her out and about the Soo.”
“Ahhh. Marie does love shopping. She has a new beau, dropped that bombshell on me last night, so we’re jetting off to Geneva to meet him.”
“Have a good trip.”
“Thank you,” he said as he took his leave. Nearing the door, he paused, turned his head to one side and spoke over his shoulder. “Keep me informed of your progress, Mr. Mancini.”
“Yes, sir,” Torin said. He watched his departure, then sensing Garret’s eyes upon him, spun to face him. “Anything else, sir?”
“Find the sonofabitch and bring him to me, alive.” Garret sneered.
“Yes sir.” He headed for the door.
“Don’t disappointment me!” Garret called out. “And he best be alive. I want his nuts in my hand, do you hear me, Mancini?”
Torin turned and bowed. “Loud and clear, sir. Loud and clear.”
Hampton Manor
When the Suburban turned off I-75 onto River Ridge Road which was heavily forested, not a house in sight, Donja grimaced. She had hoped for a home in the city, some semblance of society with cable TV and internet access. Minutes later Carson slowed and took a sharp left past twin rock pillars topped with century old statues of lion heads. “We’re home,” he beamed.
Donja felt her spirits sink.
Carson slowed the Suburban, navigating a cobblestone drive. Instantly swallowed by a creepy forest with gnarled limbs that blocked the sun, Donja’s jaw dropped. She leaned back in the seat as the tires beat on the inconsistent stones lining the drive.
“This is spooky,” Frankie blurted gripping the front seat and sliding halfway between Carson and Lisa.
“It needs some work and the trees need trimming.” Carson chuckled. “It’s old, but what a gem. You up to helping me get her in shape, big boy?”
“Sure,” Frankie beamed.
“It’s like stepping back in time,” Lisa cooed as they left the forested tunnel, sunlight breaching the windows. They rounded a tight curve, the half-mile drive winding through a meadow dotted with wildflowers.
“That’s a little better,” Donja said, not realizing she was speaking out-loud. Several deer feeding on the billowing grass dashed away, with tails flashing.
“Mom, look!” Frankie exclaimed, pointing at the fleeing herd.
“Yes, we’ve seen them every time we’ve come here,” she said as the Suburban rolled past towering spruce within view of the house.
“Welcome to Hampton Manor.” Carson announced with pride.
“Wow!” Frankie gasped.
Donja slid forward beside him, her face inches from her mom while staring through the windshield.
“No way.” Donja whispered.
“Rather amazing isn’t it?” Carson beamed.
“To say the least,” Donja mumbled under her breath. She narrowed her eyes, scanning the brown stone mansion bleached pale by years of weather. She surveyed the vines and yellow flowers that spanned the entire south wall of the three-story monstrosity and for no credible reason, a sense of gloom pervaded.
The manor, which was perched on a bluff with rocky banks that fell with a steep drop to the St. Mary’s River below, had a beautiful yet haunting appeal, rather like a spider on her web, awaiting prey. Donja, taken by the eerie yet nostalgic beauty, shivered, unsure of her feelings.
“It’s big,” Frankie whispered.
