Mary's Bones

ELEVEN

Charles might not have been home. I had knocked on his door five times already. But there was no answer. Maybe he was home, and he was like my mother, hard of hearing. He could've also been sleeping. I wasn't sure.

"Charles? Mr. Hudson?" I called.

His backyard gate was wide-open. I couldn't imagine he'd have left his backyard gate open if he wasn't home. My gut was telling me to turn back to my car. But my feet were guiding me onto his property. My eyes shifted both ways before I fully entered his backyard. I may or may not have been trespassing. . .

"Wow, it's really nice back here. Oh! John would love a grill like this. Maybe I should buy him one for his birthday, wait, focus, Angie!" I scolded myself. But it was hard when I was staring at a beautiful patio, similar to the one we used in my parents' backyard, and all kinds of other things.

It was almost strange. Charles may have been a lead suspect, but he was still human. He was still human with a family. Ever since the rumors began, family was the last thing talked about in the media. He didn't seem to have a wife. No children. No husband. No parents.

I couldn't help but question if he had a family to begin with. If he did, I wondered if they kept in touch. Maybe his family lived out of state. Maybe his family abandoned him because of the rumors. That wasn't the most impossible thing I'd ever heard.

Shivers jolted down my spine.

I couldn't imagine not having my family there to back me up, especially if I pledged innocence in my life. Unless the rumors were true.

I began walking towards his shed and stopped at the entrance. "Worth a try," I murmured, yanking at the handle. It was bolted and locked. I backed away slowly, eyeing the patio. My feet trailed behind me.

For someone who had been living alone, even his standards surprised me. All that lay on the patio top was silverware, exceptionally neat and sparkly clean. Were they used, or had they just been put there for decoration? I couldn't tell.

There were quite a lot of expensive items. What the hell had this man done for a living? Surely, not many jobs would have been willing to accept him. He had a negative stigma attached to him in the public eye.

Pebbles grind under my shoes as I shuffled closer to the backdoor of his home. Placing my hands above my forehead, I blocked the sun from my eyes, peeking into the backyard window. The inside was just as pretty as the outside. Through his kitchen, I could see his TV on a brown stand in the living room.

From what I could see, a movie was playing on the Lifetime network. To the left of the couch and TV, sparks rose from a small orange and red flame, flickering in what seemed to be a fireplace. The rays of heat from the flame thinned into the air.

I would have thought there was nothing strange about this man to list him as a pedophile. But the pink and white dollhouse that hid beside the fireplace said otherwise. I would have missed it if not for the tall roof of the house.

A frown masked my lips. I squirmed slightly in my stance.

It didn't help that Rosemary was forcing herself down on my bladder. It only made me squirm more. The doll house appeared to be handmade and carved from wood. Not the plastic dollhouses stores sold most of the time nowadays. Could he have made it himself? Red flags were going off in my head. But there could've been an explanation for that, right? I wasn't sure.

Something roared to life around the corner from where I stood. It sounded like it was coming from the side of his house, deeper in the backyard.

"Oh fuck," I seethed under my breath.