Don't know how many chapters I will get to today. My back is killing me from some fencing work and demolition at the neighbor's property. Hard to argue with free stuff as long as you demo it yourself. Me and my grand ideas though. Sounds like the afternoon will be spent on the couch, minus the genial Mike Stone mother-henning because hubby won't be around to do the job.
Following Mike up the few wooden stairs to the front porch of the old farm house; Steve subconsciously reached back with his left hand, opening the holster to his .38 Special in case the need arose. And there was no doubt in his mind that it would arise sooner or later.
Even without looking back, he could tell that Mike had noted the move.
A quick glance around revealed that nothing seemed to have changed since the previous day. The chair was still in its spot and what little he could see of the inside through the small opening he'd cleared yesterday was still where it belonged.
And yet, a feeling of having eyes trained on them every step of the way followed him around relentlessly, almost as if their killers sat on the proverbial watchtower, waiting for them to make the wrong move.
Following proper procedure, Mike knocked on the front door several times, cueing his ears to any sounds that might come from the inside. Steve turned around until he was back to back with his partner, ensuring that they had a defense from either side.
Trying to swallow his increasing nervousness, he glanced across the inner yard of the property, taking in what little he could considering the weather conditions, desperately trying to remember if anything had changed.
And yet, things looked deceivingly untouched to his trained eyes.
"Let's check the backdoor…", Mike said quietly and patted him on the elbow, as he walked past and back down the three wooden steps, before making a sharp left turn.
Steve followed suit, falling in step with his partner, as they circled the large farmhouse. Looking up, he noted several broken windows on the second story and water damage on the siding of the main level. Moss had begun to grow from the ever-present moisture in the ground and covered most of the bricks and glass blocks that surrounded what seemed to be the basement.
The back door looked to be in the same shape as the front one, with a single exception.
The brass door knob was shiny from having seen much use.
Before he reached for it, Mike glanced up at him, sharing the same suspicion.
Three knocks later, and no answer from the inside once again, the Lieutenant used his shoulder to ram the white wooden door, feeling both, the lock and the dead bolt up above resisting the pressure.
Unsuccessfully ramming his shoulder into the corner of the door once again, Mike glanced over at his partner, a distinct level of irritation flooding his features.
"You mind helping me, or you just going to stand around watching?"
Sporting a cheeky grin, Steve pointed his chin at the old barn ahead.
"Well, instead of ruining my shoulder, I was going to grab the crowbar I'd seen in there earlier…"