Secrets By The Knoll

By Julie Metros

Inspired by a true story, Secrets By The Knoll transforms you back to the early 1900's to a farm in Des Moines, Iowa.

The brutal murders of two children upheave the Johansson family and their community. The typical farm family forced into the spotlight as the entire city and surrounding towns react with immense curiosity. Crowds gather at the murder scene and funeral home. They parade by the Johansson farm and picket outside the police station.

As the family grieve and move on with their lives, Detectives Harding and Maloney diligently work to solve the murders piecing together the evidence they have. But they are missing essential items - the murder weapon and motive!

• Language: English
• Publisher: Prodigy Gold Books
• Release date: Nov 6, 2018
• ISBN: 9781939665751

Julie Metros

In college, an English Professor wrote a few words on the author’s term paper, “You should become a writer.” For years, she toyed with the idea. Writing bits and pieces of various novels but never finishing.  Until she read this story. This story intrigued her. Weeks later, she found herself researching the old newspapers, plat maps, and ancestry.com. She visited the cemetery and murder site. During summer 2016, she wrote her first chapter. For the next year, the characters came alive with her words. The characters will always be a part of her life. She has begun writing the sequel. Originally from the East Coast, Julie Metros now lives in a suburb of Des Moines, IA (close to the murder scene) with her two pets, Cooper a rambunctious cocker spaniel puppy and Maggie, her bossy tabby cat. While writing the book, her constant companion was Little D; her loveable cocker spaniel of eleven years. Unfortunately, he passed away in 2017.  She has one son, Daniel. Julie welcomes interviews, speaking engagements, educational interactions, book club meetings, etc. (Both in person and remotely.) She may be available on short notice. Please contact her at [e-mail], check out her Facebook page: Julie Metros, Author.

Book preview

1

APRIL 13, 2017

In one-hundred feet, turn right at Madison Avenue, the computerized female voice said. Listening to her GPS, the driver turned right at the next road and pulled into the parking lot at the corner. 

Your destination is on the left.

Ashley parked her dark gray Honda Civic near the corner. She moved the shift indicator to park and turned the key to shut off her car. After unhooking her seat belt, she opened the door.

Ding, ding, ding. A series of bells reminded her to take her keys out of the ignition. She stepped out of her car. 

The tall blonde-haired woman stared at the road in front of her. Distressed skinny jeans and a faded blue t-shirt accented her slim build. Light blonde hair, straightened and parted in the middle, fell to her shoulders. Her Swedish heritage reflected in her looks; high cheekbones, almond shaped eyes, and a tipped-up nose. She lifted her silver aviator shades uncovering eyes the color of the summer sky. She placed the shades on top of her head using the temples to hold back her hair revealing simple silver cross earrings; a graduation gift from her grandparents. 

The young woman surveyed her surroundings.  She stood in the parking lot of a grocery store; a busy intersection behind her. Unlike the larger supermarket chains throughout the country, this store’s simplicity appealed to many shoppers. No pharmacy drive-up window or gas station; the large windows free of flashy signs announcing big sales. Just a simple blue square sign with orange borders above the entrance. In upper case, white letters, it read ALDI.

A steady stream of customers entered and exited the building. More vehicles had pulled in after her. Others had left. The parking lot stayed half-full. She watched a silver minivan swiftly pull into a parking spot. The driver got out of the van and hurried into the store. Two school age children ran behind her. Another car drove by her exiting the lot. It was certainly a busy store.

The road behind her orchestrated a multitude of sounds; an arrangement consisting of soft purring engines, heavy truck diesels, the loud rap bass or a catchy country tune from a passing vehicle, the swishing sound of spraying water, drilling sounds and car doors slamming shut. Looking across the street, Ashley saw the origins of the sounds; a man washed vehicles at a used car lot, a mechanic changed a tire at an auto repair shop and a customer arrived at the check-cashing store. 

Ashley brought her attention back to her surroundings. 

Most likely, the house stood here. Or maybe closer to the store. The picture she found on the internet didn’t show the road. Then again, Ashley thought as she looked back at the busy road behind her; it probably wasn’t four lanes wide.

Click, click! Ashley hit the button on her key fob to lock her car. She shoved her keys into her front pocket as she walked to the sidewalk along Madison Avenue. The bounce in her steps caused her hair to sway back and forth. She returned her sunglasses to rest on her nose.

She stopped to retrieve her smartphone from her back pocket. Ashley pressed the button to turn it on and scrolled the screens until she found the Map My Walk app. She touched the icon to open it and pressed the start button. Ashley began to walk west down Madison Avenue 

Bout one-third a mile from this intersection, she said talking to herself.

As she walked, she stared down at her phone watching the arrow move. When the app read one-third miles, Ashley stopped. Looking up, she read the street signs. 

East Tenth and Madison. 

If she had calculated correctly, this was the spot.

Ashley sighed, repeating, This is the spot. 

The quiet neighborhood belonged on a postcard with its white Cape Cod houses and manicured lawns. Despite the warm weather, she didn’t see anyone outside. Most of the residents would still be at work or inside watching The Ellen DeGeneres Show or a sitcom. The younger kids surfing the internet, updating their status on Facebook or playing their Xbox.

She surveyed the area. The well-kept houses told her the owners took pride in their homes. After the long winter of dormancy, buds formed on the trees and the grass turned greener with every passing day. A large RV motorhome sat in a driveway; a car behind it blocked the sidewalk. The fourth corner was the back of a grade school. Within the fenced yard, the brightly colored playground equipment filled with children. Most likely, an after-school program since the school day ended over an hour ago. She could hear the children yelling and laughing but couldn’t make out what they were saying. 

Ashley’s thoughts returned to the reason for her visit. She was taking an ancestry class as an elective at the Community College. Her final project required them to research their family history. She discovered this tragedy while searching on the internet. No one in her family had ever mentioned it, which added to her curiosity. She felt compelled to make this pilgrimage. 

She wondered if the homeowners knew what happened here. There was nothing to mark the spot. No monument, crosses, or flowers. No makeshift memorials. Nothing.

It was over 115 years ago. Today. Everyone has forgotten what happened here.

Or died, She added. 

She walked to the southwest corner. The one with the school. Ashley pulled a tiny wooden cross out of her jeans pocket. Kneeling on the curb, she pushed it into the dirt and said a little prayer. 

I don’t know you but I’m so sorry that this happened to you. I hope your souls have found peace in Heaven. And that you are smiling down at me; knowing that you are not forgotten. I will never forget you.

Tears filled her eyes as she finished her prayer. 

Wiping the tears from her face, she thought, this is stupid; I didn’t even know them.

Standing up, she looked around to see if anyone watched her. A lump had formed in her throat. 

Overcome by sadness, Ashley walked slowly back to her car looking down at her pink flip-flops; she tried to make sense of this strange feeling. The overwhelming force that drew her to make this pilgrimage. The weird connection she felt to ancestors she never knew. 

When she reached her car, she stopped. She lifted her sunglasses revealing her teary eyes. 

She looked again towards the west. The late afternoon sun forced Ashley’s blue eyes to squint. Ashley Johansson lowered her sunglasses to shield her eyes.

2

APRIL 13, 1902

Closing the back door, Lukas Johansson stopped for a minute. The late afternoon sun had begun its descent and forced Lukas’s blue eyes to squint to look out over the horizon.  He placed his hat on his head. With the front brim tilted to shield his eyes, he scanned his farm. The flat plains of Iowa allowed him to see for miles. In the distance, he could see the homestead of his nearest neighbors. 

The harsh winter took its toll on the land. Fierce winds snapped tree limbs leaving debris scattered around and the heavy snow left fields flooded. The pond to the south spilled over its banks from the melted snow. The leftover darkness of winter clashed with the brightness of spring. The sunset was a prism of color with reds, oranges, and yellows blended in perfect harmony. Thankfully, spring had arrived. Soon, bright colors; yellow and white daisies, green leaves, and golden prairie grass would replace the grays and browns of winter. The trees already speckled with new buds. The prairie grass was no longer dormant and would soon be standing tall. The past winter would be nothing but a memory. 

The warmer weather would bring with it picnics and church bazaars. Blankets spread out on the ground, picnic baskets full of delicious food, and children playing games. They would attend the State Fair with livestock showings and apple pies with blue ribbons. In addition, there would be weddings. Shy brides wearing their Sunday best, lemonade and cakes, and tears of joy. But above all, there would be laughter. Lots of laughter. 

Inside the house, more sounds of laughter. Lukas smiled to himself.

He heard the muffled giggles of his four girls as they helped his wife, Claire, prepare supper. His daughters were busy peeling potatoes and carrots for the stew. In the oven, the bread baked while the large pot boiled on the stove. When he left the kitchen, the sweet smell of the cornbread filled the air. 

Lukas and Claire married twenty-five years ago. He immigrated to America at the age of twenty. He was tall and slender with rugged good looks. His eyes the color of the summer sky. His hair so blonde, it appeared white. His physique and looks made him the talk of the local girls when he first arrived in Iowa. However, just one girl caught his eye—Claire.

Claire, his bride, was average height with soft features. Her blonde hair was a shade darker. Her eyes a deeper blue. Claire had lived on this farm her entire life. After they married, they moved in with her family. Lukas learned the ropes of running a dairy farm while Claire took on the responsibilities of the household, taking care of the children, the gardens, and her aging parents. When her father died, her mother gave the farm to Claire and moved in with her widowed sister just a mile away.

Claire and Lukas had a good life together. She had blessed him with seven children. Three boys and four girls. 

John, their oldest, stood taller than Lukas did. With blonde hair and blue eyes, he favored his father’s Swedish looks with his square jaw and long face. As their first born, John was more responsible; acting more like a surrogate father than a big brother to his younger siblings, especially his sisters. 

After a brief engagement, John had married. Emma, his bride, was perfection all bottled up in a petite frame; the top of her head barely reached John’s shoulders. She was kind, sweet, and beautiful. Soft brown curls fell to her shoulders. The sides often held back with rhinestone-studded barrettes. Her brown eyes the color of the rich chocolates displayed at the local candy store. Her smile melted John’s heart and he fell in love the moment he laid eyes on her. Married less than a year, they recently just finished building their own home and would start a family soon.

Chloe was their second born. She looked just like her mother.  Dirty blonde hair and sapphire blue eyes. She had caught the attention of many young bachelors at Sunday services. Like her father, she only had eyes for one. He remembered the day Charles asked for Lukas’s permission to call on Chloe. The two had been courting for a few months. Lukas expected another conversation with a nervous young man any day now. This time for her hand in marriage. 

Chloe was ready to start the next chapter of her life. Her hope chest was full of embroidered linens, knitted blankets, and perfectly stitched quilts. Her eyes lit up when someone suggested a trip downtown; always the first ready to go. She roamed the stores for hours and pouted when it was time to leave. Chloe squealed with excitement when the Sears & Roebuck catalog arrived, held it to her chest, and danced around. Then spent hours skimming through its pages; her fingertips blackened by the ink and the pages dog-eared when she found something she liked. 

James Jacob, their third, arrived less than a year after Chloe. To avoid confusion with his namesake, and maternal grandfather, they called him Jacob. The day after he finished eighth grade, he prepared for his future. He went from farm to farm picking up odd jobs; fixing fences, painting barns, whatever they needed him to do, and saved every penny. Two days a week, he worked for the local creamery; picking up the milk from nearby farms. 

Within a few years, he had saved enough to buy his own land. Just days after his eighteenth birthday, Jacob bought a farm at an auction. The twenty-six-acre farm was next to his father’s land. Vacant for many years, the property included several run-down buildings as well as a house. Set close to the road, the vacant house provided a haven for both man and mammal. Holes in the roof and broken windows gave access to shelter from the cold or heat. Too many repairs kept Jacob from moving in right away. After he finished his chores, Jacob worked on his house and farm. 

Yet, despite all that, Lukas saw him as a complete failure. Lukas shook his head in disappointment. He didn’t see the driven man that worked from dusk to dawn milking cows, plowing fields, or fixing that old farmhouse. No, he saw the man who left the house every night to hang with friends. Friends neither he nor his wife had ever met. His mother, sometimes, waited up for him using the excuse she had mending to finish. Often, he came home smelling of liquor and cigar smoke. He stayed a failure in Lukas’s eyes.

It’s best that boy finish that house or he ain’t never going to vin a girl’s hand the vay he is!

The next three were daughters. Like her older sister, Anna Belle also courted a local man but her beau, Robert, was more anxious to start a life together.  Robert had already asked for Lukas’s permission but he hadn’t popped the question. Anna Belle had no idea he had talked to her father but Robert wanted to get all his ducks in a row before getting down on one knee. It was making it difficult for Lukas whenever he spoke to Anna Belle—he had to keep the secret—even from Claire. Lukas was happy for Anna Belle. Robert, a well-established accountant, would provide a good life for her. 

Anna Belle and his third daughter, Lillian inherited their father’s Swedish looks; blonde hair and slender. Their eyes were grey, the color of slate, rather than blue. Lillian wasn’t courting anyone, but Lukas noticed one young man talking to her when the family had attended a function at John’s a few weeks ago. This young man’s family farmed near John. Lukas was sure they would see him again. In fact, he remembered a picnic planned for next month. Lukas expected another nervous young man talking to him.

The youngest girl, Gracie was just fifteen. She favored her mother with darker hair and deep blue eyes but was tall and slender like her father. Gracie was very sociable and could strike up a conversation with anyone. Everyone was her friend. She loved to read, always begged her father or older brothers to take her to the library in town. Gracie would leave the library with an armful of books and already talked about the books, she would read next. She was popular in school and had plans to do important things. Her biggest fault, if you could call it a fault, was she didn’t like to hurt anyone’s feelings; she genuinely cared for everybody.

Lastly, Timmy. God saved the best for last, Lukas thought. He was much shorter than the rest of the children but a growth spurt could come any day. His hair darker like his mother with dark blue eyes. Timmy reminded Lukas of himself as a young boy. Timmy couldn’t wait to help his papa in the barn. When that day arrived, he found five-year-old Timmy fully dressed at the kitchen table, but with his head resting on his arms, sound asleep. Now eight years later, he was full of ambition and eager to learn everything he could about the farm. Timmy wanted to know the why; while Jacob and the oldest, John, just worked. Timmy wanted to please his father. He took pride in everything he did.

Yes, God gave me a great son.  

3

LUKAS STEPPED AWAY from the stoop and started down the worn path towards the barn. A large brown and white dog appeared at his side. No matter where he was or what he was doing, Duke appeared at Lukas’s side the minute he stepped outside. Early in the morning, he came running from the barn where he slept. The hound watched over the cows and horses barking at any sounds of an intruder. Duke had to share his guard duties with the many cats and their kittens that roamed the barn. The cats kept the mice at bay and received fresh bowls of milk as their reward each day. 

How many times had he walked from the house to the barn? Every morning and night for twenty-five years. Thousands and thousands and thousands!  Some mornings the trip was easy like today but there were many mornings he wondered if he would even make it to the barn. Winter mornings where two, three or more feet of snow covered his path. Blowing snow and intense winds made a mockery of the layers upon layers of clothing he wore. There were mornings of horrendous storms that soaked him completely before he reached the barn. And lastly, the midsummer’s heat and humidity made it difficult to catch one’s breath.

Lukas looked ahead at his aging barn. That poor old barn has been through it all, he thought to himself. 

The large barn was two stories high. That old building survived winter after winter but it left its mark; paint peeled, wood rotted, and planks loosened. Like every year, springtime meant sprucing up the farm buildings. There were plenty of repairs needed this spring; in between tending to the livestock and crops. Boards nailed down, rotting wood replaced and the barn repainted.

Lukas glanced back at the house. Over the years, they updated it with the modern conveniences of electricity or running water. The running water was only a pump and basin in the kitchen but they no longer had to carry water into the house for cooking or bathing. Lights in the kitchen and parlor turned on with the flick of a switch.  The rest of the house still needed oil lamps.

Claire suggested adding a telephone.  Lukas didn’t think they needed such a luxury; even though many neighbors were already considering. If I must talk to someone, I will just ride to his farm, he argued. Besides, the house could use a fresh coat of paint first. But that would have to wait. More important tasks needed his attention. There was the chicken coop, hog house, smokehouse, and outhouse.  And a storage shed for the farming equipment needed to cultivate the vegetables and fruits. 

It wasn’t unusual for a farmer to lose an outbuilding