House Of Secrets Read Online Free PDF Page B

it was safe here. I never really understood what we were safe from.
    “At Trenton, turn left. Then you’ll stay on that for a mile or so,” Geena instructed.
    “Do you suppose any of it will look familiar to us?” Piper questioned.
    I felt fairly confident that far too much would look familiar. “I think we’ll be able to gauge that better in the light of day,” I answered.
    It seemed appropriate that we should return to this place under cover of darkness. It was rather like naughty children sneaking back into their rooms—like we had done that fateful night. I sensed, more than remembered, that we were getting very close. I followed Geena’s directions, turning first right and then left again. When Geena declared with the GPS that we were arriving at our destination on the right, I was already starting to turn. How could I have known? I was just a little girl the last time we’d made this turn.
    Our house was set on a rocky ledge that rose about fifteen feet from the shore. The drive to our home was narrow and steep, and dropped down considerably from the higher roadway. We were canopied by trees of various types, their branches stretching at awkward angles along the way. From the road there was no indication of a house below. For all intents and purposes, it looked like an abandoned, heavily forested piece of property. Exactly the reason our father had chosen it.
    “This is really creepy,” Piper said from the back seat. “The trees are snuffing out all of the light.”
    “Not that there was much to begin with,” Geena interjected.
    The last of the streetlights faded from view as the driveway curved and declined in a steep grade toward the bay. I couldn’t see the house or the water yet. The thickness of cedars, firs, yews, and alders blended as one in the limited illumination of the car’s headlights. I didn’t remember it seeming so frightening.
    We passed a small building to the right. I figured it must have been the guest cottage Dad had contracted a few years back when tourism in the area really began to build. There had always been a small building there, but it wasn’t used for guests until Dad had it rebuilt. Now caretakers rented the cottage and beach house out to vacationers. Dad said it was quite profitable; he was actually thinking of acquiring additional properties.
    “Sure glad the rain hasn’t made it too muddy,” Piper said.
    “Dad had the drive packed with rock,” Geena threw out. “He said it was nearly as solid as asphalt and that we shouldn’t have any trouble.”
    We rounded the last bend to see lights shining from the house. Dad had said he’d arrange with the caretakers to have the place readied for our arrival. I supposed that meant leaving the lights on for us.
    I pulled to a stop outside the garage and turned off the engine. For a moment none of us moved. I figured we all had that same strange sense of returning to the scene of a horrible accident.
    Glancing up at the house, I remembered someone describing it as a two-story Alpine saltbox style. You found a lot of saltbox houses back east. They had been a popular Colonial period design. Here, however, I thought the house looked displaced. Perhaps that’s why Dad had purchased it. Maybe it had reminded him of his childhood in New England.
    “Well, the car won’t unpack itself,” Geena said, opening the car door.
    Piper quickly followed suit, leaving me to decide whether to remain seated or do likewise. I moved rather stiffly to open the door. My senses were assaulted by the damp, earthy scents. We gathered our things from the trunk and hurried up the stone walkway to the front door.
    “I have the key,” Piper offered. “Dad gave it to me just before he flew out on business.” She edged past Geena to unlock the door.
    We might have hesitated to enter, but the rain was now falling in earnest, sending us quickly inside. We maneuvered in just far enough to close the door behind us, however. I momentarily forgot about