Page 42 of Buried Secrets

The dismissal was polite but firm. Matt recognized the signs of an interview subject shutting down. “Thank you for your time, Ms. Lane. We appreciate your insights.”

Outside, the wind had picked up, carrying the first hint of an approaching storm. Matt waited until they were in the Jeep before speaking.

“That was interesting,” he said, starting the engine. “She must have recognized you from the coffee shop.”

“I noticed,” Kaitlin murmured.

Matt navigated around a pothole. Kaitlin stared out at the passing landscape, her hands clasped tightly in her lap, clearly unsettled. He noted the pallor beneath her naturally olive complexion. “You okay? You look tired.”

“Just my throat,” Kaitlin admitted. “It’s been a day.”

“I’ll take you back to the cottage,” Matt decided. “We’ve done enough for now.”

And it would give him a chance to take a closer look at the snake without Kaitlin’s presence. And maybe talk to Jasper, if he was still at work.

The mansion’s shadow stretched long across the gravel drive as Matt parked his Jeep, the setting sun casting the weathered stone in deep amber hues. He’d left Kaitlin at her cottage with instructions to lock her doors, a precaution that felt increasingly necessary. Two potentially deadly incidents involving her was beyond coincidence.

Matt stood for a moment, studying the building’s facade. Evening light filled the tall windows like liquid fire, giving the impression of watchfulness, as if the mansion observed his approach with patient, ancient eyes. Three stories of history and secrets had perched on this promontory since before his grandfather was born.

The front door yielded with a reluctant groan. Inside, the entrance hall stretched before him. The air held a peculiar mix of scents: years of staleness, with the dust of construction and the lingering ghost of smoke from the records room fire.

Matt made his way toward the basement door, footsteps echoing in the empty corridor. A single work light burned at the far end of the hall where voices murmured. There were still a few construction workers on-site, he assumed, from the vehicles in the driveway, but most of the renovation crew had left for the day.

The basement stairs descended into shadow, each step creaking slightly beneath Matt’s weight. The temperature dropped noticeably as he reached the bottom, the air damp with the scent of earth and stone. He flipped the switch at the base of the stairs, and a single bulb cast weak yellow light across the corridor.

The records room door stood partially open. Matt pushed it wider, allowing what little light there was to spill inside. The room appeared just as they’d left it hours ago, with the shelving unit behind where Jasper had killed the snake still pushed slightly away from the wall.

Matt crouched to examine the area with his flashlight. Unlike the main corridor with its poured concrete foundation, this corner of the basement retained much of its original character—stone foundation walls meeting an earthen floor. Years of freezing and thawing from Maine’s harsh climate had created small gaps between some of the stones, none wider than a finger but potentially large enough for determined vermin to exploit.

“Maybe,” Matt murmured, running his fingers along one such crevice. “But a timber rattler?” The snake Jasper had killed was nearly three feet long, too large to squeeze through these minor imperfections.

Matt played his flashlight along the base of the wall to search for larger openings.

“Sheriff?” Jasper’s deep voice came from the doorway, startling Matt despite its soft delivery.

Matt straightened and directed his flashlight away from the maintenance man’s eyes. “Hello, Jasper. Just looking at where you found that snake.”

Jasper filled the door frame, shoulders nearly brushed both sides, hands resting at his sides. His face remained, as always, difficult to read.

“Old house,” he said simply. He pointed at the wall Matt had been examining. “Has ways in.”

“That what I was thinking,” Matt replied.

Jasper stepped into the room, and Matt then understood Kaitlin’s reaction to Jasper earlier. His bulk was intimidating.

“You still have it? I’d like to take a look at it.”

Jasper nodded but remained still.

“Mind if we grab it now?” Matt asked.

Jasper turned without a word and led the way back upstairs and outside. The mansion seemed to watch their departure, shadows gathering in corners as the last of the daylight faded from the high windows. The shorter fall days were always an adjustment. Matt felt an inexplicable urge to look back as they climbed the stairs, as if something might be following behind.

Jasper led him to a workshop that occupied what had once been the mansion’s carriage house, where the construction crew had set up their headquarters.

The snake lay on a workbench, carefully wrapped in clear plastic that displayed its distinctive patterning. Jasper handed it to Matt, who noted the crushed head.

“Good thinking, wrapping it like this,” Matt said.