The Unkindness of Ravens by M. Hilliard (readera ebook reader .txt) 📗

“Unclear. The will describes the parcels generally, and refers to an addendum and some other documents. Those were either never filed or are missing. The attorney who handled it all is retired. Sam is pressuring the firm, but it’s going to take time. I was hoping you could help with that.”

“Really? The police would like my help?”

“Unofficially,” she qualified.

“You’re throwing me a bone and trying to keep me busy and out of trouble.”

“Out of trouble, yes, but this is the kind of research you know how to do, and you can do it from where you are without anyone being the wiser. I don’t have time. I’m on my way to talk to Sal Cosmopoulos about that drowning. Something feels off there. Then I need to have another chat with our friend Vince.”

“Ok, give me what you have,” I said.

She rattled off some information and I repeated it back.

“And stay away from these people, Greer. I mean it. Don’t get caught alone with any of them.”

I promised to behave and hung up.

Chapter Twenty-Five

I spent the next forty-five minutes toggling between government webpages, real estate sites, and mapping search engines, and made little progress. Addresses, parcel numbers, deed holder name—every system needed something different. I cross-referenced as much as I could, but something was off. I looked at those two addresses I’d found earlier and wondered.

Going back to a mapping site, I typed in the Prentisses’ address and switched to the aerial imagery view. I found myself looking at the roof of an old barn. I panned out, looking at the immediate area, then switched to street view. The barn had been renovated into a dwelling, and sat at the end of a winding road with a few other homes, all recent construction. The whole area was what I called faux rural—rustic on the outside with all the mod cons inside. I always found it a little pretentious, though I had to admit some of the repurposed old buildings were lovely. This neighborhood was well done, though the barn was obviously the only original structure. Barn House Road indeed.

I went back to aerial view and scrolled around, trying to place the Prentiss home in relation to the manor. Barn House Road led in the opposite direction, snaking down into the village, but I could trace a line through the woods between the two old buildings. Unless I was missing something, there was no way to see one from the other. Unlikely, too, that the Prentiss family had been living in a partially renovated barn at any point in this saga. I must have missed the house somewhere.

I went back to the barn house and began the painstaking process of examining the area between it and the manor systemically in as much detail as I could manage. Marjorie’s bequest was becoming secondary; there was something here that didn’t make sense, and all my girl detective instincts were telling me it was important.

My eyes were watering and my stomach growling by the time I found something. Directly across the Ravens Kill, from the window I’d looked out that morning, was a clearing, and in that clearing I could detect the faint outlines of a building foundation. The whole thing was overgrown, but the vegetation wasn’t as dense in some areas, and those areas were too regularly shaped to be natural. The wilderness will reclaim anything in time, but a stone foundation would stay visible for a while. A sparse river of grass led from the clearing toward the street leading to the manor, disappearing into a knot of shrubbery. If that had at one time been a road, then the land to the south of it would be the parcel Marjorie Douglas had bequeathed to the library.

I leaned back and studied the image on my screen, the sense that I had discovered something important growing stronger. Ideas whispered at the edges of my mind; whispers I could hear but not quite make out.

“Trust your instincts,” Jennie said, “because your instincts keep you alive.”

If only I could figure out what they were telling me. My rumbling stomach reminded me that a girl could not live on instinct alone, and that my reference shift would begin whether or not I had eaten. I blanked my screen and hid my notes, the pile now too unwieldy to tote around with me. Maybe some food and a change of scene would give my subconscious a boost.

I headed for my favorite perch. It was occupied. I didn’t recognize Anne Marie until she turned around at the sound of my footsteps.

“Hi,” I said, as she made room for me on the bench, “I thought you were one of the Friends.”

I gestured to the brightly colored hoodie she was wearing. It looked at least a size too big.

“This was my welcome present. They gave it to me at the meeting last week. They were all wearing them and wanted me to feel like part of the team.”

Anne Marie shoved at a too-long sleeve.

“Apparently, they run a little big, so I leave it here for when it gets chilly. Like today. It looks like I missed the sun,” she added, glancing at the overcast sky.

We chatted about the weather for a few minutes and then Anne Marie left, saying she was going to take advantage of the quiet office to finish a paper and would be happy to cover my break at the reference desk. I pulled out my sandwich and studied the landscape in front of me.

If I had oriented myself correctly, I should be staring straight toward the clearing where I had spotted the foundation. There were breaks in the trees at the top of the hill, and some gaps in the foliage. I spied the little trail I had seen from the window, tracing it from the Ravens Kill to one of the breaks in the trees. That had to be where the Prentiss house had been.

I finished my lunch and scattered