CHAPTER FOURTEEN

"Do we think the professor is telling us the truth?" asked Nine.

"I think so," said Ian. "I didn't get any vibes from him that he was lying or covering anything up. He seemed genuinely concerned and genuinely tired." The men all smirked at one another, nodding.

"We're missing something, and I can't figure it out for the life of me," said Nine.

"I might be able to help," said Sly, walking into the room with his laptop. He connected it to the large screen, and a photo popped up. "Our cameras in the woods caught something, or I should say someone. I can't tell if they're male or female. They're wearing black boots, black sweats, black hoodie, and they have their face downward at all times. I'm not even sure if they're black or white."

"What were they doing in there?" asked Miller.

"They walked to the location where the lean-to was and felt around as if looking for something. They're crawling around on their hands and knees, feeling the grass and thick brush. Then he or she stands, turns in several directions, and walks back out."

"Did they go toward the neighborhood?" asked Ian.

"Yes. I think you have to get over there and start asking questions," said Sly. "If someone has a doorbell camera, ask them if we can have access to video two nights ago, between one a.m. and two a.m."

"I'll head that way," said Miller. "You feel like a drive, Ivan?"

"Sounds like fun. Let's go." As the two men left, Gaspar jumped to his feet and yelled down the hallway.

"No making anything go boom-boom!"

They hear the groans and moans of Miller and Ivan, making the men chuckle. When Gaspar turned, he shook his head.

"So help me, if my brother blows something up, Mama is going to have one less son."

Behind the ballfield was the thick wooded area between it and the subdivision of beautiful homes. Specifically, it was a cul-de-sac, which made the knocking on doors a bit easier. If someone was going in and out of the woods, it would stand to reason that someone in the neighborhood saw it all.

"Why do I feel as though homes don't have any style or character any longer?" asked Miller. Ivan chuckled, shaking his head.

"Maybe because you were raised in a two-hundred-year-old antebellum mansion that has been lovingly cared for by your parents and ancestors. And," he started, "and your father was smart enough to build Acadian-style cottages on the property to make it feel authentic to the region. Maybe that's why."

"Maybe," smirked Miller. "Or maybe no one is thinking about what this shit looks like when it's all done. Like that one. It's like one big white stucco box. Plain windows, no panes, no character, no shutters. I mean, for fuck's sake, this is south Louisiana, home of the mega-hurricanes. Shutters aren't just for show."

"You do have a point," laughed Ivan. "But let's hold our architectural opinions to ourselves. I'd like these people to speak with us."

Stepping up to the first door, they rang the bell and heard the obnoxious ringer playing a hip-hop song. An older black gentleman opened the door, staring at the two men.

"Can I help you?" he asked.

"Yes, sir. We're investigating the death of the young woman who was held in the woods over there. We were just wondering if you have any video footage or cameras other than your doorbell?" asked Ivan.

"Police asked the same question," he said, shaking his head. "My doorbell camera hasn't worked in a while, and I don't care to fix it. Don't really need it out here."

Miller held his tongue, wanting to point out the obvious. In fact, if there was a murder, he did need the damn camera.

"Did you happen to notice anyone going in and out of the woods? Maybe a group of kids, teenagers?"

"Not a lot of kids in this neighborhood, and those we do have are young, elementary school. Their folks don't let them go into the woods there." Miller nodded, frustrated already by the questioning.

"Thank you for your time," said Ivan. The man closed the door, and he looked at Miller. "Alright. Moving on."

The next two houses were no different. Yes, the police had asked the same question. No, they had no footage, and no, they didn't see anyone going into the woods.

"This is fucking ridiculous. Don't neighbors watch out for one another anymore?" asked Miller.

"Brother, that neighborly feeling has been gone a long time. We forget that we live very differently than the average person," said Ivan. "Most people don't give a shit about how others are living or what they're doing. Mind your business, keep your head down, and just wave."

"Well, that fucking sucks! This is why I'm even more grateful for what Mama and Pops have done."

"You and me both," said Ivan. They rang the doorbell of the next home and waited patiently. When no one answered, they knocked but then started to walk away. Hearing the door open, both men turned.

"Well, hello there," smiled an attractive brunette. "This is not the delivery I was expecting, but please, come right in." Neither man said anything at first, just staring at the woman.

"Ma'am, we'd just like to know if you have any knowledge of the murder that happened in those woods."

"Murder? What murder?" she frowned.

"The young woman who was held captive and murdered. She escaped, but only to die in the arms of the local baseball coach. We're trying to find any footage or doorbell camera shots that might help."

"Oh. I had no clue," she said, shaking her head. "I don't listen to the news much. It's just too depressing. I prefer happier things. Things that give me shivers, if you know what I mean." She grinned at the men, turning her hip in a sexy way.

"I'm afraid I don't know what you mean, ma'am," said Miller. "If you hear anything, please contact the police right away."

"Wait, you don't need to go," she smiled. "I just made some coffee. I bet you boys like coffee, don't you?"

"Ma'am, we're old enough to be your father," said Ivan.

"I got daddy issues. What can I say," she smirked. "It wouldn't take long. I promise." She was practically cooing at them. Miller shook his head, walking away before he said anything he'd regret. Ivan was so stunned by her statement he almost fell over.

"Ma'am, get your daddy issues fixed before you find yourself in a situation you can't get out of." Ivan walked off the porch, meeting Miller on the sidewalk.

"Fine. But you'll regret it! I'm that good. Ask anyone in the neighborhood." Her laughter stuck with them as they continued knocking on doors. Deflated, defeated, and dead tired, they headed home.

"We'll catch a break sooner or later, Miller," said Ivan.

"I know that. I was just thinking. In all the years that you and Sophia have been married, have you ever worried about what she was doing while you were gone? Or her worry about you, for that matter."

"Never. I trust Sophia completely, and she trusts me. I've never once thought about another woman. I've probably noticed. Looked is the wrong word to use, but I have noticed beautiful women. But it was never with lust. It was more, I don't know, admiration maybe."

"I know what you mean. We have a lot of beautiful women on the property. It's hard not to notice them. But I've never had thoughts of being with them. That woman had a wedding ring on, living in a multi-million-dollar home. Her husband is off somewhere making money for her to live there. What are people thinking?"

"I don't know, brother. Maybe he's off somewhere with his mistress, and she knows it. Or maybe she's divorced and wearing that ring as a reminder of what she lost. Hell, she could be the one with all the money and doesn't really give a damn. People are strange. I know we're not exactly the peak of normalcy, but I'd say we have a good handle on right and wrong, good and bad. You never know what someone has going on in their personal lives. It could be anything."

"Well, I don't want to know about it," said Miller. "Just get me home to my beautiful wife so I can tell her how much I love her."

"Ditto, brother. Ditto."