"Wait, you're the FBI agent my uncle was talking about?" I asked, my surprise evident in my voice.
"Yes, Mr. Catalano has been invaluable." Agent Williams seemed to be very direct, a man of few words. He didn't elaborate on the meaning of his words. My mind ran loose again, wanting to know how invaluable he was. How much didn't Agent Williams actually know? I wanted to ask him, but he probably wouldn't divulge anything. He didn't seem like the type with his stoic attitude.
"You said you identified the remains? Who are they?" My curiosity was growing. I already had a guess who they were, but I needed him to confirm aloud. The idea that they had been in the woods behind the house all this time upset me. Why wasn't anyone searching the woods after they went missing? It just didn't add up.
"Yes, ma'am. Through dental records, our coroner was able to confirm the remains are Mr. and Mrs. Catalano," he replied. Tears welled up in my eyes as my emotions took over.
"Oh my gosh! I was right," I gasped. Zeke placed his hand on my leg, providing me with his strength. I was grateful for it, because I needed it now more than ever.
"Were there any clues to who was digging them up?" Zeke asked curiously. We hadn't seen anyone else lurking around the woods.
"All I can tell you is no, we haven't found them," Wiliams answered. "Miss Sleighton, can you tell us how you knew who the remains were? Donovan told me about your mom and your connection to him and the family. We are just trying to assess why you were so adamant that it was the Catalanos." It made me feel like he thought I was involved in excavating the remains.
"I'll tell you, but you'll think I'm nuts," I said. "My grandmother appeared in my dream and warned me someone was trying to steal them. When I woke up, I saw flashlights in the woods and woke Zeke and Andy." His expression showed he didn't believe me. If I were in his shoes, I probably wouldn't believe it either. I couldn't help but chuckle, curious about what was going through his mind. "Since we have moved into this house, we have had some unexplainable experiences. Experiences that no one would believe unless they happened to them."
"Donovan mentioned you might have some documents that could assist the investigation," he asked. He completely dismissed my explanation and immediately moved on to the next question, which clearly showed he didn't believe me.
"Um, I do, but I'm not sure I can trust you?" The question was simple, but hesitation wasn't an option. If the person responsible for my grandparents' exhumation found out, they would come after us.
"Yes, Miss Sleighton, you may. I share your desire for justice for your family," he said, locking eyes with me to convey sincerity. Fortunately, we had made copies of the documents and stored the originals in the safe room in the attic. Zeke stood up and collected the copies of everything for Williams. "One more question: we'd like to conduct a preliminary search of the woods to see if there are any unmarked graves. We can't rule out the possibility that the two youngest children didn't escape either. May we have your permission to search behind your house?" There was no need to think about the question. Of course, I would let them. Finding my youngest aunt and uncle was equally important.
"Yes, of course, all we want is to solve the mystery and find out the truth of what happened that night to my family," I said, my voice steady despite the rush of questions swirling in my mind. The crucial piece of information we needed was to identify who was responsible for all the chaos. Williams left shortly afterward, giving us his contact number and promising to keep in touch. Once he was gone, Zeke leaned in close and whispered that he had something important to show me. He gently took my hand and led me to the dusty attic, its creaky stairs beckoning us upward into the shadows.
We opened the door and carefully stepped inside the dim, dusty space. The air was thick with fine particles that continued to settle on the stacked boxes, which had been untouched for quite some time. As we walked across the floorboards, I noticed the floorboards didn't creak anymore. He had replaced them, so his steps were noiseless. We stopped in front of the hidden room.
He proudly declared, "I fixed the door so that no one would be able to detect it." The gap between the door and the wall was now completely seamless, no longer evident to the eye. Approaching the door, he pushed gently, and it swung open smoothly. Inside, the space was newly furnished with a comfortable couch and a cozy bed, while shelves held freshly stocked non-perishable food. The walls were painted a warm cream hue, and the floor had been carefully refinished, giving the room a clean, inviting appearance. I walked around, running my hands over everything in awe of all he had done. On the inside of the door were deadbolts to keep people out. I was impressed. When did he have time to do this? His schedule was packed with opening the new branch and helping me renovate other areas of the house.
"Wow, Z, this room looks fantastic. You did an excellent job sealing the gap. I can barely see where the door is," I said, smiling at him. His smile widened as he soaked up the compliment. He truly deserved it; he had completely revamped this space. Though he wouldn't admit it openly, it was obvious he fixed the room because of the threats hanging over us, which I was entirely responsible for.
"I wanted us to have a safe space. Especially with all the crazy things we have been through the past couple of months," he said as he walked up behind me, wrapping his arms around my waist. I leaned back into him, enjoying his warmth and comfort. He had become my safe space, my home.
"Z, thank you for always thinking ahead," I say softly. He kissed the top of my head and squeezed me a little tighter. We stayed like that for a few minutes, just enjoying being together in the peace. My hope is that we would never have to use the safe room; time would tell.
The following days were quiet and routine, but that made me feel uneasy because of the calmness that surrounded us. They say there is calm before a storm, and I waited each day for the storm. We tried not to dwell on those thoughts and enjoy each day to the fullest.
After dinner, Zeke and I were relaxing in the living room when we heard footsteps on the porch, and the wooden slats squeaked under the person's weight. Tense and unsure of what lay beyond, we cautiously approached the front door. Zeke pushed me gently behind him and slowly turned the doorknob, opening it. The sight before us angered us. There, in all his creepiness, was Ted. His face pressed to the window, desperate to catch a glimpse of us. He was so absorbed in his activity that he didn't notice the door opening. He was trying to see into the house but couldn't, as we had blackout curtains blocking his view. The frustration on his face was almost comical. We cautiously stepped outside and approached him.
"What the hell are you doing?" Zeke yelled, scaring Ted, who was crouched down. He jumped and fell over, smacking his side on the porch, and snapped his gaze our way. His eyes were glaring daggers at us, but he knew he wasn't in a position to yell back. Instead, he scrambled to get up. It looked like he was in a skating rink the way he kept falling over his own feet. Zeke reached down to grab him, and Ted finally found his footing, jumping up, pushing us out of the way as he ran down the steps towards his home. Zeke started to chase after him, his anger radiating off of him. I didn't want him to get hurt running into the darkness, not knowing what Ted was capable of. Grabbing his arm, he turned around and stared at me.
"Zeke let him go. He might be leading you into something dangerous. Plus, I don't want to be left alone." I started. I didn't care what happened to our creepy neighbor, but Zeke couldn't get hurt again. Not because of me, it would break me.
"Rocky, this is never going to stop with him and the sheriff. They are going to keep terrorizing you. I want to protect you. You mean everything to me," He stated as he pulled me into a hug. It felt like we were in a no-win situation.
"I feel the same, that's why I don't want you to follow him. Something's wrong with him. He's off his rocker. Let's call and report him again." As I spoke the words, I tried to gauge Zeke's reaction. He seemed to agree with me slowly.
"Fine, but they'd better do more than just talk to him," he said, grabbing my hand and leading me back inside. Once inside, we called the sheriff's office, but they showed little interest in investigating another call to our home—almost as if it was our fault. These terrible events kept occurring: the FBI was still searching the woods behind our house, Ted was a persistent annoyance, and the sheriff was constantly bothering us.
A deputy arrived at the house and took our statements. As he spoke with us, I sensed him looking at me now and then, his gaze more curious than hostile. Deputy Henderson likely returned to the station and shared gossip about me and Sheriff Dawson, or about my family's background. Probably, everyone was laughing at our expense. It was no secret that the sheriff and I didn't get along. The deputies were probably trying to make sense of the information. They could join the club, since I was still struggling to accept it myself. Sheriff Dawson wasn't my first choice of a grandfather; he was mean, rude, and involved in questionable activities.
After the deputy left, we saw him drive into Ted's house across the street. All the lights were off, and he was probably hiding, hoping they would leave. Despite this, the deputy got out and knocked on the door repeatedly. We watched him stand there knocking for about ten minutes before he gave up and drove away. Ted had to be home; he had just been at our house. He didn't have time to leave. We kept an eye on the house, looking for signs of activity. It didn't take long before a light upstairs turned on. Our suspicion was right—the little weasel was hiding to avoid trouble.
Walking back into the house, Zeke and I agreed that we should get a restraining order against him. This way, if he came back to the property, we could have him detained. We already had enough evidence from previous reports to support the request for a restraining order.
After the frustrating encounter with the sheriff's office and Ted's deliberate attempts to avoid them altogether, we finally decided to head to bed, believing that the evening's chaos was behind us. Boy, were we mistaken.