To Do or Don’t by J.C. Ryan

Author:J.C. Ryan [Ryan, JC]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2023-08-28T16:00:00+00:00

TWENTY-ONE

ALL OF US MAKE MISTAKES

Jake pulled up in front of the little blue cottage. It seemed cheery enough, considering how thickly the rain had started to fall. A pair of brown barn doors hung where the garage door used to be. The front yard was filled up with hosta plants and square-cut bushes. A white Ford Taurus sat out front, parked along the street. The streetlight had turned on early, and the rain glistened on the windshield and slick surfaces of the plants.

He peered in through the front window, a big bay with white latticed panes. The curtains were open and one of the windows was cracked an inch at the bottom. Lights were on, but not in the front room—from deeper within the house.

Behind the house was a big gray building, three stories tall, paint peeling, boards warped, with roof shingles turned green, or askew, or missing entirely. Some of the windows were broken. Between the two buildings was a gray, recycled-plastic fence, very solid looking, and high enough it would block the line of sight from the back windows on the little blue cottage. It was like the cottage was pretending the old factory, or whatever it was, didn't exist.

A quick call to Alex had established the house still belonged to Shasta Leighton as a primary residence. It was one of those situations Jake could easily overthink—go up to the front door and knock, or call ahead and see if she was home or busy.

He'd established over the course of his career as a private investigator it was almost always better to go up to the front door and knock. He parked in front of the Taurus, watched the house for a second, then pulled his collar up.

The rain rattled on the roofs of both cars and along the street. The flat slap of raindrops hitting the hostas was the loudest, though. The leaves quivered as the downpour dragged at them.

He marched up a brick walkway to the front door and pressed the doorbell, a neutral ding-dong ringing through the house.

A second later, he sensed but didn't see a presence behind the inner door. A small arched window covered the top of the door. He lifted himself onto his tiptoes and saw the top of a head on the other side of the door, hesitating.

"Hello?" The voice echoed from the other side of the door.

"Ms. Leighton?"

"Yes? Who is it?"

"I'm Jake Westley, a private investigator. I'd like to speak with you."

"What's it about?"

"The Conrad Wilson case," he said.

"Oh God," the woman on the other side of the door said. "That. You've come from Ashley Gledhill, haven't you? She's trying to save him."

"I've come from her, but I don't work for her, ma'am."

"Who do you work for then?"

Jake stared down at his boots and the waterlogged welcome mat underneath them, a fancy blue-and-gold pattern that was sinking into a depression in the top step, and sloshing water over the soles of his boots. "I'd rather not have this conversation out here in the rain, ma'am.

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