Wild Creek Whispers by Cindy Keen Reynders

Author:Cindy Keen Reynders [Reynders, Cindy Keen]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Camel Press
Published: 2022-05-15T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twenty-Three

Norman rolled his eyes. “Dad, she stopped by to talk to Vinny. He won a Publisher’s Clearing House prize. Don’t you remember?”

“Vinny ain’t here,” Grandpa Warren said in a crotchety tone.

“That’s why I’m leaving right now,” Reese said, anxious to skedaddle. She’d learned enough about Vinny for now. She walked toward the door and Norman eased alongside her.

“I’m not sure when Vincent will be home,” he said, flipping a light switch on the wall. “He didn’t say much when he left. Just mumbled that he had something to take care of.”

“I’ll check back with him another time,” Reese said, opening the door and stepping out onto the illuminated porch.

“Do you have a check from Publisher’s Clearing House? I could give it to him,” Norman offered.

“No, that won’t work,” Reese said. “According to the contest rules, I have to hand it over to him in person.”

“Darn, I see. I hoped I could save you another trip out here.”

“Rules are rules,” Reese said as she walked down the steps.

“Sure, I understand. Drive safe.”

“Thank you and have a nice evening.” Reese climbed in her truck and started it. Backing out of the driveway, she flipped on Betty’s lights, then removed her reading glasses and placed them on the passenger seat.

Once Norman had gone inside, she flipped off Betty’s lights and parked on the road in front of Vinny’s trailer. She cut her engine and got out as quietly as she could. She sauntered up to the mobile home and stepped up onto the small porch.

Fortunately, the trailer’s entrance couldn’t be seen from Vinny’s dad’s house. She used the flashlight app on her phone to illuminate the door knob. Using the slim blue lock picking tool attached to her keyring, she popped open the front door. The stench nearly overpowered her, but she entered anyway.

Waving around the flashlight, she got a pretty good sense that the place was a pigsty—in fact, that was an insult to pigs. It reeked of staleness. Somewhere beneath piles of magazines and clothes, furniture existed. Food wrappers, beer cans and half-eaten food spilled everywhere. Tin cans full of cigarette butts littered practically every surface. Old and new computers and computer components had been stacked on tables and desks.

She picked up a pair of Timber Ridge, size 10 boots sitting on top of a coffee table scattered with dog-eared magazines. Reese shook her head. Vinny really liked these boots. When he’d left the pair up at the cabin, it appeared he’d ordered these to replace them.

Doing her best not to breathe too deeply, she stepped through the cesspool and searched all the rooms, snapping cell phone pictures along the way. Everywhere this boy went, disaster followed. The bedroom at the back of the trailer appeared to be where Vinny slept. Of course, it was as messy as the rest of the place, but the walls displayed a unique collage—large photos of Skylar.

They clustered above a small desk in one corner and across every inch of wood paneling. Above the bed were several larger photos of her.

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