#Wattys2015 The Ghost of James Fitzpatrick

Chapter 24

The small two lane highway known to Sarah and Lucy as Willow Springs Road, and apparently known to Google as County Road 4, loomed long and gray before the two girls as they rode single file along its shoulder in the damp afternoon air. Sarah was in the lead.

"I swear to God, I will kill you if I see someone we know," yelled Lucy up to Sarah, "specifically Dennis Dardee and/or Trevor Osborne, I will kill you."

Sarah recognized the names as Lucy's crushes of the moment and laughed. The properties they passed were large parcels along the old highway, and there was a good 30 seconds of biking between the addresses.

"It's coming up Sarah, it's the next one I think," yelled Lucy. And sure enough, there it was, a small, sturdy little house made of orange and brown Missouri stones, a typical home of the 1930s. It was set back down a long driveway that turned off directly from the highway.

Both girls stopped their bikes. Sarah again looked at her watch.

"Ok, that only took us about 7 minutes from the library," she said breathlessly.

"Let the record show, I am not happy about this Sarah," said Lucy, "we're technically trespassing on someone else's property."

"We're not taking anything, Lucy, we're just looking, that's all" said Sarah. Both girls climbed off their bikes.

Lucy looked around trying to take in their surroundings. There was a mail box next to them at the beginning of the long gravel drive, and a deep culvert that ran along both sides of the driveway. The culvert was deep enough for the girls to roll their bikes into, and they did, laying them one gently one atop the other, out of the sight of passing cars.

As the girls walked away from their bikes and approached the house, they stayed far off to the right side of the property, along the tree line. They casually walked, as they had planned, to appear they knew where they were headed.

As they passed along the house to their left, they noticed it was quiet and no one appeared to be home. The girls barely glanced at the house and did their best to appear nonchalant.

"If someone says something to us, we will just say we are looking for a dog we saw up on the highway," said Sarah.

They were greeted by a wire fence, about waist high, which they could practically step over, but that wasn't necessary. There was a little gate which sat ajar with weeds at its threshold, as if to invite them in.

Sarah stepped into the back yard first and Lucy followed. The weeds were high, some chutes reached above their thighs. The girls looked around.

"It's getting dark, Sarah, let's hurry," said Lucy.

"I'm with you," replied Sarah. They headed toward the back of the lot, away from the house. They split off in separate directions, Lucy headed toward a shed on the right, and Sarah toward a couple of bare trees and piles of rubble on their left.

"There's nothing I can see over here Sarah, or behind the shed," said Lucy a minute later in a loud whisper.

The yard was spotted with farming equipment that sat forgotten and rusting where it performed its last task probably decades before.

There were two outbuildings; one looked like an old tool shed, the other a bit bigger, was maybe a chicken coop at one time. Next to it sat a large, dead branch from one of the ancient oaks above, which Sarah noticed was big enough to carve a canoe into.

"I don't see anything over here either," Sarah said making her way back out of the piles of rubble, which consisted of mostly bricks, old pieces of plywood, two by fours, and fencing.