A Horse With No Name - Part 2
Chapter 12 - The House on Stone Street
The houses on Stone Street were older homes, mostly built in the nineteen twenties and thirties and were all well kept. The house with the address from my HR file was a red brick two-story colonial. It was similar in age to the neighbor's, and like the others, the exterior of the house was in excellent condition. The windows all looked like they had been updated with new energy efficient glass and none of the woodwork needed painting. I did note that the lawn around the house was overgrown and full of tall weeds. I made all of these observations without understanding how I knew about the ages of the homes in the neighborhood or how I knew that the windows had been replaced in my house. I made a mental note to record the incident in my notebook.
My driveway was on the left side of the house and went around to the back. In the backyard was a standalone one-car garage. Detective Monroe was already out of his car and trying to open the back door to my house as Brian and I approached.
"The door is locked. I'll need to get a pry bar from my car so we can get the door opened," Detective Monroe said.
"Don't we need to have a search warrant to break into the house," I asked.
Brian and Detective Monroe both started laughing. Brian put his hand on my shoulder and said, "Mike, it's your house, you don't need a warrant to break into your own house unless you don't want us to go inside, then Detective Monroe would have to get a warrant."
"I guess that was stupid, but I'm having trouble with the concept that this is my house right now. Let's get the door opened."
While we waited for Detective Monroe to return with his pry bar, I peeked through the window to see what was on the other side of the door. It appeared to be a laundry and mud room combination. I could see the washer and dryer against the left side wall. The back wall had a built-in coat rack and bench for removing boots and shoes. Some coats and jackets were hanging in the built-in and a pair of boots and a pair of running shoes were on the floor beneath the bench. Next to the coat rack was the door that led into the house. That door was opened, and beyond it, I could see part of the kitchen.
Detective Monroe came back with his pry bar and popped the door open, then turned to me and said, "When you fix that door you are going to need to install a better lock than that one.
"Now before we go in, you need to know that normally you would not be allowed to be this involved with the investigation. I am hoping that by allowing you to come with us that you will see something that might trigger some memory of what happened to you."
We started to go inside, and Detective Monroe told me to wait in the laundry room until he and Brian had a chance to clear the house. I wasn't sure what that meant, but I did as instructed.
I watched as Brian and Detective Monroe looked around the kitchen and then proceeded farther into the house. When the two of them returned to the kitchen ten minutes later, Brian turned to me and said, "Looks like this is where it all started."
"What makes you think that?"
"From the looks of the kitchen we can tell that you keep you keep it neat and clean," Brian said. "Everything is where it belongs except for the dishes on the table. It looks like you left a half-eaten breakfast on the table and the sludge in the bottom of your coffee pot would indicate that there was coffee in the pot the last time you left the house. The person that lived in this house would not have left a mess in the kitchen unless he didn't have a choice. Also, there is a home office upstairs that may have been the site of a struggle."
Before we left the kitchen, I heard a low humming noise. Brian and Detective Monroe both looked over toward the refrigerator. Detective Monroe went over and opened the refrigerator door and said: "The electricity is on, the refrigerator is running."
I said, "So?"
"You have been away from here for more than six months, and the power is still on. You would expect that Duke Energy would have shut the power off after two or three months of non-payment."
It turned out that the water was also still on.
Detective Monroe told me not to touch anything as we moved further into the house. Aside from the kitchen, there were three other rooms on the first floor. The formal dining room, the living room and a family room with an entertainment center with a large screen television. It didn't appear that anything was out of place in those rooms.
Detective Monroe stopped at the bottom of the stairway and pointed at the carpet runner on the bottom step. "There are some blood drops on the stairs so be careful not to step in any of them on the way upstairs."
There were five rooms off the hallway on the second floor. There were three bedrooms, one was a home office, and the last was a bathroom. Two of the bedrooms were pretty standard sized about 12 feet by 12 feet, with the small bathroom between them. The third bedroom was a master suite consisting of a large bedroom and a large bathroom. The master suite was obviously the result of a remodeling project. Somehow, I knew that houses built in the twenties didn't have master suites. That was just one more thing I understood without knowing how. The remodel looked recent. I wondered if it had been done before I lived there or did I have the work done? The question on my mind was 'how could I afford to live in a house like that?'
Looking around the master suite I noticed a framed photograph of an attractive brunette woman. I was staring at the picture when Brian came up beside me and said," Pretty girl, do you remember her?"
"I am trying, but no. I don't."
It wasn't until we went to check out the home office that I noticed that anything was amiss. The office was the same size as the smaller bedrooms. There wasn't much in the way of furniture in the room, just a couple of office chairs, a table with a printer on it and a large antique oak roll-top desk. The desk was positioned between two windows on the back wall. The roll top was opened and whatever had been inside the desk had been thrown on the floor. To the left was a door that led to a small closet. The closet door was opened, and I didn't see anything in the closet.
I sat down at the roll top desk. I could not explain why, but that desk was somehow familiar to me. Without turning to look at Brian or Detective Monroe, I said, "I remember this desk. It is the only thing in this house that I know belongs to me."
"Do you think it's important to the case?" Detective Monroe asked.
"I have no idea. It's just that this desk is the first thing that has made me feel connected to this house."
There was a small trophy made up of three small gold colored baseball bats with the inscription
2002 Section III Champions
engraved on it, lying on its side on the desk. There was also a baseball with several signatures on it, on the floor. I guessed that the ball was supposed to sit on top of the trophy. Without touching the ball, I read the names I could see, but didn't recognize any of them. Did the trophy belong to me and should I know the names written on the ball? That was just another puzzle for me to figure out.
I was turning away from the desk when something on the floor caught my eye. It was a picture frame laying face down surrounded by broken glass. I reached to pick it up, but Brian stopped me. "Detective Monroe, you got any gloves on you?" Brain said.
"Yeah, what have you got?"
"We want to see the picture in this frame." Brian said.
Detective Monroe put on a latex glove and picked the frame up and turned it over. The picture was of me standing with my arm around the same girl that was in the photo in my bedroom. We were dressed casually in jeans and tee shirts, and she was looking up at me, smiling.
Brian came looked at the picture and said, "Isn't that the same girl?"
"It is," I said. "I guess we will need to find out who she is, but how?"
