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CHAPTER FOURTEEN
As Finn's car tires crunched over the gravel driveway, the headlights illuminated an old farmhouse nestled in a desolate landscape.Sheila squinted at her phone, reading the article about Lisa Cartwright's suicide.
"Do you think Albert Cartwright could be talking about Roy Hubbard when he says someone hurt Lisa?"she asked.
Finn shifted the car into park and turned off the engine.The night swallowed them in darkness, the only sound being their breathing and the distant hooting of an owl."It's the obvious explanation," he said."A grieving father, steeped in bitterness for the past twenty years, and the man who he blames for his daughter's death shows up in town again?"He shook his head sadly."Sounds like motive to me."
The farmhouse belonging to Albert loomed before them, its weathered façade a testament to years of neglect.Paint peeled from the siding, revealing the bare wood beneath.A few windows were cracked or broken, while others were boarded up entirely.It was late at night, and the area around the house was eerily quiet, save for the wind whispering through the tall grass that surrounded the property.The whole scene seemed frozen in time, like a faded photograph from a forgotten past.
"Come on," Finn said, opening the car door and stepping out into the cold night air.Sheila followed suit, tucking her phone into her pocket and pulling her coat tighter around herself.
Sheila's eyes darted to the left, taking in the sight of an old garage that stood nearby.Its wooden frame was weather-beaten and warped from years of exposure to the harsh elements.The faded green paint flaked away, clinging to the rustic hinges and handles.Shadows crept along the walls, cast by the dim moonlight that spilled through the partly open door.
I wonder what's in there,Sheila thought, making a mental note of the building.
As they approached the farmhouse's front door, Sheila hesitated for a moment before knocking firmly.She instinctively tensed her muscles, prepared for whatever might come next.
The door creaked open, revealing a man in his sixties.His features were worn and haggard, with deep lines etched into his face.A pair of tired, bloodshot eyes peered out from under a mop of unkempt gray hair, while a rough beard covered his chin and neck.He wore an old flannel shirt, frayed at the edges, and a pair of faded jeans stained with grease and dirt.
"Can I help you?"he asked, his voice gruff and wary.Beside him, a large dog growled lowly, its hackles raised.The man held onto the dog's collar with one hand, preventing it from lunging at Finn and Sheila.
"Hi, are you Albert Cartwright?"Sheila asked, trying to keep her voice steady despite the rising tension she felt within her.
"Yeah, that's me," Albert replied, still looking puzzled by their presence."What do you want?"
"It's about your daughter Lisa," Sheila said carefully, watching the man's expression for any hint of what he might be thinking.
"Lisa?"The old man's eyes seemed to soften."What about her?"
"I think it would be better if we talked inside," Finn said.
Albert stared at them a moment longer, looking undecided.Then, tightening his grip on the dog's collar, he stepped back to let them in.
The interior of the old farmhouse was rustic, with shadows clinging to the worn wallpaper and faded family portraits hanging on the walls.A threadbare couch faced an ancient television set, and stacks of newspapers and magazines formed a precarious tower in one corner.The smell of dust and stale air filled their nostrils as they stepped farther into the living room.It was clear that Albert lived alone, the lack of any personal touches or warmth evident in every nook and cranny.
"Please, have a seat," Albert said, motioning to the couch as he pulled up a wooden chair for himself.He settled in, the dog resting obediently at his feet, its dark eyes still fixed on the strangers in their midst.
"Thank you," Sheila said, glancing around the room before taking a seat on the couch, Finn joining her.She took a deep breath and steeled herself for what might be an uncomfortable conversation."As I mentioned earlier, we'd like to talk to you about your daughter Lisa."
"Alright," Albert replied hesitantly, his fingers absently stroking the dog's head."What about her?"
Finn leaned forward, his voice steady and calm."We're investigating the deaths of the Hubbard family, and we believe there may be a connection between them and your daughter."
Albert's body stiffened, his eyes narrowing slightly."That's a terrible shame, what happened to those folks.But I don't see what it has to do with my daughter."
Sheila watched him carefully, her instincts telling her that he was hiding something.Still, she couldn't quite put her finger on what it was.She tried to keep her tone gentle, knowing that discussing Lisa would be painful for Albert."We understand that this is difficult for you, Mr.Cartwright, but we need your help.Any information you can give us about Lisa's relationship with Roy Hubbard might be crucial."
"Lisa...and Roy?"Albert repeated, his voice betraying a hint of bitterness."It's been years since they were in high school together.Why would that matter now?"
"Can you tell us about Lisa's relationship with Roy back when they were in high school?"Sheila asked, sidestepping the question.
Albert's hand moved to stroke the dog by his side, but his fingers clenched around its fur as he began to speak."Roy was...not good for my Lisa.He was controlling, always trying to dictate her every move.Abusive, too."
"How did you react to that, Mr.Cartwright?"Finn asked, stoic as ever.
"It's all water under the bridge now," Albert said, waving a dismissive hand."It's been so long since those days; I hardly remember the details anymore."His gaze drifted away from them, focusing on something unseen in the distance.
Sheila didn't buy it.There was something off about the way Albert spoke, as if he were repressing a storm of emotions beneath the surface.But she held her tongue, knowing that pressing him further might only make him more resistant to their questioning.
