The Haunting of Lockwood Estates | Nancy Drew x Supernatural Crossover 01

Chapter 12 - Nancy

Cedarwood Resort & Spa

Blackridge, New Hampshire

Sunday 9 March 2008

A Half Hour Previously...

There has to be something here. A connection, a reason, something!

My head is crammed full of information, and none of it is adding up. The Winchesters, ghost hunting, Sherman Lockwood, the estates, Caroline Walker, Edward Velasquez.

I examine the sheaf of papers spread out on the shiny desk in my hotel. Dust from decades past plooms into the air. Birth certificates, death records, news clippings of notable familial achievements. The past owners sure did do their part to keep track of their family history. But still. Something seems to be missing. Only noticeable if you are looking for a particular person, as I am.

Did the previous owners leave out information on purpose? Or did they look at the carefully-documented notes they had and call it close enough? Or, perhaps, had information been buried (so to speak) with the death of Caroline Walker?

If you were to look solely at the contents of the fire safe, you would determine that Caroline Walker had done nothing in her life, and was my age when she died. But nothing here except a birth certificate, and a death certificate, both of which only gave dates. No mention of how she died, no mention of marriage, no mention of kids. No mention of if she lived at the manor her whole life, or if she had come from or gone elsewhere. The only evidence of what she did during her life is one single note saying she was a maid.

This wouldn't necessarily be odd, as she died over two hundred years ago, if not for the fact that all of the Lockwoods and every single house worker, high- and low-ranking, have enough information in the safe to write extremely detailed biographies. Save for any mention of the infamous Caroline. I can't even find a mention of her parents. Perhaps she was simply a lucky orphan who was able to find a job at a prestigious household.

I chew on the end of my pen in thought, staring down at the documents, and at the sketched out family trees and reference notes I have been working on.

I hate to admit it, but I am stuck.

Sighing, I pick up the family tree and stare intently at the dates, checking for what must be the twentieth time, who was alive at the same time as Caroline--besides Sherman and Edith Lockwood, of course.

I wonder if the graveyard would be any help. If she was buried next to someone, that may indicate she was married. Or maybe the epitaph could give me some clue as to who this person was. I don't know if she would have been buried in that graveyard on the property, but it is worth a shot.

Carefully, I sweep up the pile of papers and put them in a folder and into my knapsack, leaving the firesafe where it is on the floor. I would rather keep these on my person. I am still wary of these "Winchesters," and wouldn't put it past them to sneak in here and poke around.

I mean, that's what I would do.

----

I pull into the property's gates, my headlights immediately catching the sheen of the all-too-familiar Impala, parked quite obviously at the front of the property. I give a deep groan as I put my car into park. The whole reason I am here this late, instead of coming in the morning, was to avoid those two.

Grabbing my knapsack from the passenger seat, and then a heavy-duty flashlight from my glove compartment, I shove open my door. A wall of icy chill hits me in the face. "What the--?" I start, suddenly thinking that the pullover sweater I chose as I was running out of my room wasn't quite enough. It must be a good twenty degrees colder here than it was by the hotel, if not more.