Innocent Until Found Dead

Chapter Thirteen

"Every house has secrets." - Victoria Schwab

The gravel driveway stretched before them, winding through dense woods and untamed brush like a passage into another world. Quinn gripped the edge of her seat, her green eyes narrowing as the house came into view.

It wasn't just a house. It was a hulking, decayed relic of another time—a Victorian mansion that seemed to exhale the weight of its history. As they rounded the last bend, Laura let out a low whistle, her hands tightening on the steering wheel.

"There it is," she said, her voice calm, tinged with unease.

Quinn's lips parted, but no words came. Whatever she'd imagined, it hadn't been this.

The mansion stood at the end of the driveway, cloaked in shadows cast by ancient oaks and tangled ivy. Its slate-gray façade was battered, the paint peeling in uneven strips to expose warped, weathered wood. At some point, it must have been magnificent—a beacon of wealth and refinement—but now it was a ghost of itself, standing defiantly against the encroaching decay.

The front lawn was a battlefield between chaos and beauty. Weeds and brambles crept across the property like grasping fingers while patches of wildflowers defiantly bloomed in scattered bursts of color. A fractured stone path cut through the overgrowth, its once-clean edges now jagged and half-buried in dirt.

At the center of the lawn, a dried-up fountain stood like a forgotten monument. Its basin was cracked and moss-covered, the remnants of cherub statues weathered down to faceless, haunting forms. They loomed over the fountain as though guarding secrets buried in the past.

Quinn stared up at the house, her stomach knotting. The steep gables and narrow turrets clawed at the sky, their silhouettes sharp against the thick blanket of clouds. Rusted iron railings wrapped around the second-story balcony, bent and broken in places, while long, narrow windows gazed out like hollow eyes. Some were boarded up, others shattered, leaving jagged glass to catch the piercing light of the sun.

"It's... something," Quinn muttered, her voice tight. Her gaze shifted to the yard. "It definitely needs attention. We might have to hire someone to deal with this mess. The yard looks like it hasn't been tended to in decades."

Laura parked the car, cutting the engine. She turned to Quinn with a small shrug. "No kidding. Theo didn't exactly prioritize upkeep."

Quinn let out a dry laugh, shaking her head as her red hair fell over her shoulders. "Of course, he didn't. When was the last time my mom even looked at this place?"

"No clue," Laura sighed, rubbing her temples. "As I said, your mom never liked talking about it. She only said this place had... 'weird energy.'"

"Weird energy?" Quinn repeated, arching a brow.

Laura shrugged, a faint smirk tugging at her lips. "Her words, not mine. She said it reminded her of a haunted house, and honestly? I get it."

Quinn glanced back at the house, her eyes tracing its jagged roofline. "She's not wrong. It's kind of cool–in a creepy way. But I'm not going to pretend I'd feel safe walking around here at night—especially after all that's happened."

Laura snorted softly, stepping out of the car. "Neither would I. But hey, it's massive. You could get lost in there if you're not careful."

They stepped into the cold night air, the wind carrying the scent of damp earth and decaying leaves. Behind them, the moving truck pulled in, its headlights throwing long, eerie shadows across the property.