Page 79 of Night Falls on Predicament Avenue
It made sense. Too much sense. Her nerves tingled, her breath coming in short gasps, not because of the physical exertion but because she remembered the hands wrapping around her throat. The ghostly image of Isabelle Addington in the attic window that she knew had to have been caused by lack of oxygen but still was clear in her memory. She looked at Patrick, whose focus was intent on the horizon ahead of them. Searching for Floyd.
He was turning out to be a good friend, and as expected, hehad obvious intentions with regard to Bethany. Effie was glad about that. He was a good man. Patrick had come to her aid without even asking to know why she was so frantic in her chasing after Floyd. She took comfort knowing Bethany would naturally wait at the James manor, so that when Mother returned home or if Polly needed someone, Bethany would be available to provide help where needed.
“Over here.” Patrick urged Effie around another corner.
She took heart that he had seen where Floyd had gone. And now, as 322 Predicament Avenue came into view, her stomach curdled, and she stumbled.
Patrick paused, reaching for her elbow to steady her, concern in his brown eyes. “Are you all right?”
“I’m fine,” she assured him, even though Effie didn’t sense that assurance in herself.
Patrick leaned closer and pointed toward the house. “Let’s circle around to the back. We’ll sneak along the tree line. If we can manage not to be seen, then we may get an opportunity to confront Floyd.”
Effie nodded, following Patrick’s lead and ducking low as they entered the woods to the west of the house. The trees hid them from both the road and the house. Effie breathed a prayer of gratefulness that Patrick was with her to help her confront Floyd. He’d even said so aloud. Somehow he must have been privy to the fact that Floyd was a suspect in the recent violence. But Effie knew Patrick would have no idea about Anderson’s baby.
They snuck into the graveyard, moving between and around the headstones. Patrick held his finger to his lips for Effie to be silent. So far, Floyd had not seen them. But then, Effie noted, she hadn’t seen Floyd either.
Patrick eased up the stairs of the back porch. The middle of the porch sagged. He motioned to a broken board in the floor and mouthedBe carefulto Effie. She nodded and tiptoed around it.
Both anticipation and uncertainty washed through Effie as Patrick reached for the doorknob. The door opened slowly with his silent shove inward. They waited at the threshold. Patrick’s hand was raised to stop Effie from moving forward. Finally, he stepped inside, the hardwood floor creaking beneath his weight. He motioned for Effie to follow. Once fully inside, Patrick closed the door softly behind them.
They moved through the kitchen with stealth. Evidence that someone had been there was in the corner by way of a mound of dirty blankets and an open can of moldy food. Effie wrinkled her nose, following Patrick into the entryway.
“I don’t see anyone.” His whisper sounded loud. “Let’s check upstairs.”
Effie didn’t question him, only followed as they crept up the stairs. What they would do if they found Floyd on the second floor, she wasn’t sure. The cry of the child had been the impetus to move her into action so quickly, but now with Floyd no longer in view and unsure as to where he was—or if indeed he had baby Cora—Effie wondered if it would be wiser to return home and send for Anderson. She could tell him what she’d seen and suspected. He could find and confront Floyd and then—
Patrick lifted his hand at the top of the stairs, stopping so abruptly that Effie almost collided into him. He gestured toward the back bedroom, and she shrugged. He nodded and started forward again. They took a few steps more until they reached the bedroom door. It was closed, unlike the other rooms on the second floor.
Floyd had to be inside.
Effie’s breath quickened. Her heart thudded rapidly, jarring her nerves even further. She held her breath as Patrick reached for the doorknob, twisted it, and flung the door open. She let out her pent-up breath with a whoosh.
“It’s empty.” Effie couldn’t hide her disbelief. The house at 322 Predicament Avenue was empty. “Floyd’s not here.”
“Unfortunately.” Patrick strode across the room and peered out the window that overlooked the front yard and the street. He reached for the shutters and closed them, blocking out the daylight.
Effie protested. “Must we close the shutters?”
Patrick gave her a gentle smile. “If they’re open, then anyone can see inside the house.”
She was all right with that. There was an element of security not to be boxed into the house like it was the dead of night, and the house a prison.
Patrick skirted around her to the door and, to Effie’s dismay, closed that as well.
“Mr. Charlemagne?”
He engaged the lock.
“Patrick,” Effie said more sternly, although the quaver in her voice belied her confidence.
The man turned, his well-polished air still in place, his gentle smile still fixed on his face. His eyes were almost tender, sorrowful. “Oh, Miss James.” He blew out a huge sigh. “I wish you hadn’t been such a problem.”
Her
MAYBEONEDAYI’ll haunt the earth. I’ve always wondered if spirits walk among us. Some have told me that to be absent from the body is to be present with the Lord. But I don’t know that the Lord will want me to be present with Him. At least not until I’ve served some sort of penance. Which brings me back to these graves, that house, and myself.
Will I linger after I am dead?
