The Drake House

Chapter 5

Long after sundown, when Trisha once again could not drift to sleep, she meandered through the orchard. The night was mild and calm for late March. These were the perfect nights. Before it grew too hot to breathe or too cold to stroll. She loved the dark. All humanity was hushed and peaceful, and no one was around to hear her think. She breathed deep, smelling the lingering frost and pine.

Without realizing it, she wandered to the far west end of her property, looking at the gaping hole where one tree was missing. Her men had cleared the remains after Wayne came out to inspect it. It still made her madder than hell.

As she kept walking, the neat rows of apple trees stopped and the other tree line sheltering Alexandra Drake's house crept up on her. Tall pines snaked along the property line, intermingled with oak and maple, so dense she couldn't see twenty feet into the woods, even with all the leaves gone. At night, this part of her world disturbed her, not only in dreams, but while wide-eyed as well. There was sadness here and an underlying fear no one dared to discuss. It always had her interest and curiosity. It always had the town worried.

Could that be what the note was about? To stay away from the woods? Perhaps she'd rippled the pond by querying into buying some of the land for expansion. In the past, she'd had sleepwalking episodes near the tree line, but not for over a year. That she was aware of, none of her men had been that close either. They were all as spooked as the town about the deserted house and land.

Everyone knew there was a back path to the Drake house on her property, barely visible now with overgrowth. She'd never used it, had never seen the house itself. Though long dead, Alexandra's house and memory haunted Small Rapids like a curse. A single chain dangling across the path was enough to keep any and all away from there. There was another chain on the main road blocking the driveway entrance.

The wind kicked up, blowing the hair away from her face with the forceful gust. With the wind came what sounded like a voice, too quiet to be a whisper, too loud to be an echo from the road. Trisha froze, and for a freak moment, she wondered if she was dreaming. An abrupt feeling of pain and desperation flooded her, assaulting in how fast it overtook her. She backed up a full two paces and, mesmerized, she stared down the path as if in a trance. She narrowed her eyes and strained to hear, but the voice did not come again.

A branch snapped behind her and, whirling around, she spotted someone else in the dark. "Jesus, Brad. You scared me to death."

"What are you doing out here?" Her friend and workman narrowed his eyes, his voice unruffled. His short brown hair was gentled by the now calm breeze and he looked almost gaunt in the darkness.

"I was - walking," she claimed, rubbing her chest for comfort.

"You shouldn't be near the tree line by yourself at night."

"That's ridiculous - ª"

"It's not," he interjected with force. "Not after today. Not after a threat."

She glared at the harsh lines of his face, his arms crossed over his chest. "What do you think the note meant? You think it was about the Drake property?"

He didn't look away, but he didn't respond either.

"All right. Why don't you walk me back to the house?"

He nodded, falling into step with her. "Some of the trucks need oil," he said after a few moments.

"That's right." She grew aggravated with herself. "Eduardo mentioned it. I went into town to get Chuck's birthday gift and was going to pick some up, but I forgot."

"Forgot?" he replied, obviously appalled.

She could almost hear his thoughts. Trisha Eaton never forgot anything when her spread was concerned.

"No. Well - with reporting the tree, and Nancy had me pick up some stuff at the grocery store, and then I met the new deputy, and he got me all irritated and I forgot."

"I see. You met him, then." His answer was short and to the point instead of poking fun at her for rambling.

"I don't like him."

He grinned at her. "Me either."

Trisha offered him a sarcastic side-glance. "You don't like anyone."

"True. But I especially don't like him."

There was no sense in asking him why. Brad probably didn't know himself. She chuckled comfortably and wove her arm through his. "Thanks for walking me back." She glanced up at the base of the porch.

"Just don't go near the tree line alone. I don't like it."

"Yes, sir," she mocked.

Brad didn't associate with many people, and he seemed to like it that way. He always came to her with anything, trusted her. They had a very respectful friendship. Not like the silly types found in movies, but with genuine vast conversation and conformity. So when he asked something of her, she tried to oblige, because through the years, Brad had asked very little of her.

On impulse, she leaned in and hugged him. "If you lighten up a bit, I'll listen and stay away from the property line."

He grunted, his mouth a thin line. This, she knew, was him being playful. Most others would scamper at that face. "Go in the house, Trish."

He observed her until she did so, and then she watched him through the window until he was out of sight.