Chapter 28
DECKER, WE CAN’Tjust barge into the man’s house while he’s here. We don’t have a warrant.”
She was hustling after Decker and caught up to him after he cleared the tree line and the mansion and other buildings came into view once more.
“I just want to look around the grounds and maybe in some of the outbuildings.”
“We still need a warrant to do that.”
“Do we?”
“You damn well know we do.”
Ignoring this, he kept walking until he reached the garage, which was not attached to the house but was separated by a lumpy brick courtyard. The garage had six bays, and all six were wide open, allowing them to see clearly inside.
“Just the one Suburban,” observed Decker.“Looks pretty old.”
The truck sat a bit crooked in the bay closest to the house.
“I don’t see anything that jumps out,” said Jamison.
Decker stepped into the garage and examined one of the walls.
“Look at this, Alex.”
She drew up next to him and looked at the hole in the wall.
“It’s a hole, so what?”
Decker pointed around. “There’reholes over there and over there. And I noticed some in the house when we were passing down the hall. And they were in his study too.”
Jamison’s face screwed up. “That’s weird. Do you think he has rats? And they opened the walls to check for that? Or mold?”
“That might be it. I would imagine a place like this is overrun with vermin and mold.”
“Great, and we’ve beenbreathing it all this time.”
“Well, he’s been breathing it all his life.” Decker glanced over her shoulder. “Maybe we’ll have better luck with that building over there.” He headed off to a structure set about a hundred yards away.
Jamison hurried after him, glancing back at the house to see if perhaps Baron was watching them.
Decker reached the building.
It had stone walls, a tin roof, and a thick wooden door, with a pair of windows bracketing the front portal.
“What do you think this is?” asked Jamison.
“One way to find out.”
Decker opened the door and stepped inside.
Jamison scooted in after him, looking uncomfortable at this illegal intrusion.
Inside were shelves with clay pots, an old coppersink, stacks of wooden boxes with faded writing on the sides, and hooks on the wall from which a variety of gardening tools and instruments hung. On the countertops were old seed packets and long, shallow wooden boxes with metal mesh over them. Next to that were some old leather-bound journals.
Jamison opened one and looked down at the spidery writing that included plant references,weather, soil conditions, and lists of supplies and materials.
“It’s a potting shed,” she concluded. “I haven’t seen one of them since, well, I never have except on HGTV. Some of the entries in this journal are dated eighty years ago.”