Walking toward the RV, Jake felt exposed out in the open and hoped the potential of being spotted wouldn’t jeopardize whatever chances he had of rescuing Piper. If someone was inside the trailer or barn and spotted him, would they move quickly to do something to his daughter? But he had no choice. There was no other way to sneak up to the property. He walked even faster.
Jake wished he had some kind of weapon on him. There was nothing in his backpack that would help him with any physical encounter. He just had his fists. Cutting through the grass toward the trailer, Jake came upon a rusted-out old riding lawn mower stuck in dirt with weeds as tall as the mower all around it. There was other trash and junk littered throughout the front yard. Searching the ground, Jake spotted a rusted metal bar of some kind and picked it up. It was at least something with which to take a swing, if necessary.
Slowing down as he got within ten feet of the RV, Jake began to listen more closely. He didn’t hear any sounds coming from inside. No TV, no radio, no talking. But it was only seven thirty in the morning. Someone could still be asleep. The windows on the RV were too high to peer through. Still, he studied each window to see if he spotted a light on inside. Every one of them looked dark. Jake slowly circled the trailer, hand gripped on the metal bar. The backyard was more junked up than the front yard. There was a burned-up metal barrel with ashes pouring out surrounded by two metal folding chairs and a huge collection of beer cans and bottles. There was an old truck with no tires, a missing hood, and other parts sitting in the dirt over to his left. Sidling up close to the RV, Jake again listened closely. He still didn’t hear anything from inside the trailer. So he decided to move toward the small white barn. With each step, his adrenaline pumped a little quicker. God, please let Piper be inside, safe and sound.
There was an opening in the barn. As he quickly approached, Jake spotted another vehicle inside the small building sitting in the dirt with no tires. Looked like an old Buick. Stepping up to the opening, Jake took a cautious peek around the corner. His shoulders sagged. It was basically empty. Only two metal shelves filled with junk sat along one wall and a stack of hay squares in the corner. No Piper. He searched the entire barn to see if he could spot any signs that his daughter might have once been held inside. But nothing stood out to him.
Leaving the barn, Jake hustled back over to the RV. He stepped up onto a small attached patio to move toward the front door. Again, he paused to listen. Still no sounds coming from inside. He knocked on the door, gripped his metal bar fiercely in his right hand, ready to strike. But no one came to the door. He pounded again, even louder. Still no response. Reaching down, Jake tried to turn the doorknob, but it was locked. He had no plans to let that stop him from getting a look around inside. Using the metal bar, he shoved it into the crack between the door and the doorjamb. Then he started jimmying it as hard as he could. The door held for a moment, but it was cheap material. The more Jake worked the metal bar with his full strength, the looser the door got. Until it finally tore the lock apart from the doorjamb. He was inside the filthy trailer a moment later. It smelled something terrible. Like stale food, dirty socks, and marijuana.
Jake quickly scanned the area. A tiny kitchenette and bathroom to his left. A sitting area and a small bedroom to his right. It looked like the place had never been cleaned. Clothes were strewn all over the place. The kitchen counters were covered with dirty plates and fast-food wrappings. Jake did a quick search around to see if he’d find anything helpful. There was a framed photo of a man and woman on the kitchen counter standing somewhere together. Jake picked it up and examined it. Looked like they were at a rodeo or something. They were both probably in their mid-to late twenties. The guy had a goatee and a cowboy hat. His arm was wrapped around the girl. Staring at him, Jake thought by body type it could definitely be the same guy he’d seen at the hit-and-run crash and at his niece’s house last night. He put the photo down and kept searching.
A table in the middle held three overflowing ashtrays, a stack of car magazines, and a huge pile of mail. Jake started picking through the mail and confirmed this was indeed Eddie Cowens’s trailer. He quickly riffled through the various envelopes, some of which had never been opened. Most were bills. Utilities, credit cards, gas cards, a few pay stubs for A & Z Wrecker and Recovery. On the floor next to the table was a cardboard box piled high with more mail. Bills, junk mail, magazines. But then he found something that stopped him cold. He pulled it out, held it in his suddenly trembling fingers. A glossy photo of Sarah, his wife. He immediately recognized it as the same photo used on her profile page on Kingston Financial’s website. He flipped it over, felt a shiver push straight through him. Their home address was written on the back. So were the make, model, and license plate number of her Lexus SUV.