All You Need to Know

by Olivia Newport

  She wouldn’t make legal threats—yet. If he would listen, she would tell him how his calls made her feel. And if he wouldn’t, she would excuse herself—gently—and then decide what to do.

  But living under a curtain of dread wasn’t an option.

  Lauren could see the house now, just two doors down and across the street. A woman pushing a stroller came toward Lauren and smiled.

  “What a beautiful day to be out walking.” The woman stopped and leaned over the stroller to straighten the green hat on her child’s head.

  Lauren returned the smile, unsure what expression her face must have carried before the choice to be friendly. Anger? Tension? Fear?

  The toddler in the stroller grinned up at her and swatted a spinning toy hanging in front of him Lauren squatted and jiggled the toy herself, sending the little boy into giggles.

  “I won’t hold you up.” The woman gripped the stroller handle. “He’s going to be ready for a nap soon.”

  “Have a lovely afternoon,” Lauren said, some of the tension out of her back. She was always surprised at the power of a simple beautiful moment.

  “You, too.” The young mother looked both ways before crossing the street and angling toward a white house with blue trim.

  The Morgan house? She couldn’t possibly be headed there. Lauren followed a few yards behind, until she was certain the woman was going up the walk to the Morgan front door.

  “Wait,” Lauren called out.

  The woman rotated.

  “I’m looking for the Morgan house. Do you know where they live?”

  “Right here. I’m Becky Morgan.”

  Lauren didn’t remember that Nevin had a sister. A cousin, then?

  “It’s Nevin I’m looking for,” Lauren said.

  “My husband?”

  She was his wife? This adorable three-toothed baby was his?

  Lauren licked her lips. “I’m Lauren. We were in high school together. I haven’t seen Nevin in a long time, but I thought I spotted him in town this morning.”

  “You probably did. He met someone for breakfast, but the baby was fussing so I stayed home.”

  “Is Nevin home now?”

  Becky gestured toward the empty driveway. “No, but I just asked him to go for diapers. He should be back soon.”

  “I’ll come back in a few minutes then.” Lauren stepped back. Maybe she wouldn’t return. It hadn’t occurred to her that he might not be home, or that there might be an audience for her outpouring, whatever its tone turned out to be.

  “Don’t be silly,” Becky said. “Come in. I’ll put the baby down for his nap, and we’ll have some tea.”

  “I don’t want to intrude.” What about his parents? Lauren thought. “Did you come to town for the banquet last weekend?”

  “For the high school teacher? Not exactly. Nevin’s mother had some minor surgery scheduled, and he thought we might be some help. His father’s at the hospital now. But since we were here, Nevin went to the dinner.”

  Becky Morgan unbalanced Lauren. Talk about gentleness. How in the world did she end up with someone like Nevin Morgan? Then again, Lauren would never have pegged Nevin as someone who wanted to help out because his mother had surgery.

  Becky lifted the baby out of the stroller. “Here’s Nevin now.”

  The beige Chevy turned into the driveway, and Nevin got out, a package of thirty diapers in his hands.

  “Your friend Lauren dropped by.” When her husband drew close, Becky raised her face for his kiss.

  “Lauren?” He inspected her expression.

  “Lauren Nock,” she said. “We had a few classes together.”

  “Oh yes, I remember. I was there the other night when Quinn went missing.”

  Nevin sounded sincere. Likeable. He took his son from Becky’s arms and let her unlock the house unencumbered.

  “I invited Lauren in for tea,” Becky said. “I’ll get the baby settled while you two catch up.”

  If Lauren had any thought to back out of the confrontation, Nevin’s wife was making it hard. Lauren was relieved when Becky took the baby down the hall so she could focus.

  “How are you, Lauren?” His hand, the palm upturned, invited her to sit down.

  “Thank you, but I’m not going to stay long. I have no desire to be rude or to upset your wife, but I’d like you to stop making those calls.”

  “Calls?”

  “You know what I’m talking about.”

  “I’m afraid I don’t.”

  “Let me back up, then. I know it was you who made those calls to me all during our senior year.”

  He winced. “I was pretty obnoxious in those days. I’m sorry for the way I behaved.”

  If he was so sorry, then why was he doing it again? If this was some kind of show because his wife would walk back into the room at any moment, Lauren would push back—gently, of course.

  “I’m getting calls again. They’re just like before. I saw you at the banquet with all your old buddies.”

  “So you tracked me down because you think it’s me?”

  Lauren wasn’t sure of anything at the moment.

  “Please stop,” she said.

  “It’s not me,” he said.

  “You can’t blow in here from Oklahoma and pretend everything’s different.”

  “Oklahoma? We live in Minneapolis.”

  “Do you have a cell phone?”

  “Of course.”

  “May I see it, please?” She trembled, but she put out her hand.

  Nevin laid his phone in her palm. Lauren dialed her own phone number, and when her phone rang, she looked at the number it displayed.

  It wasn’t the 918 number.

  “It’s not you.” She met his eyes. “I apologize.”

  “I’m really sorry about high school,” he said. “I didn’t do a great job of picking friends in those days. With a few beers in me, I would do whatever they asked and think it was hilarious. Mostly I didn’t remember what I did.”

  Lauren scratched the back of her neck, unsure what to think.

  “I don’t even know why I agreed to sit with them the other night.” Nevin returned his phone to the holster on his hip. “I guess I should have put you on my list of people to make amends with.”

  “Amends?”

  “It’s one of the Twelve Steps. Make amends. I’m seven years sober, but I hurt so many people, I’ve been making amends all this time. Maybe I always will be. I’d like your forgiveness for the way I used you for my own amusement. If someone did that to my son. . .”

  Never in a million years would Lauren have expected this.

  “I take responsibility,” Nevin said. “Will you please try to forgive me, even if you can’t do it right now?”

  Lauren straightened her glasses. “Please thank Becky for the offer of tea.”

  “You can still have tea,” he said.

  “Thank you, but I’m really very busy today. I’d better go.”

  Lauren raced out of the house, down the street, and around the corner before leaning against a stop sign. She was glad she’d faced Nevin Morgan, surprises and all. Maybe now she’d finally be able to throw off the shame she felt when she was seventeen.

  But if Nevin wasn’t making the calls, who was?

  3:44 p.m.

  They didn’t say much driving back from Birch Bend to Hidden Falls.

  While Ethan drove, Nicole sat with the folder in her lap. Along with her list of names and the photo from the cemetery, it now contained copies of a few public records pertaining to Quinn, but nothing especially revealing—his property tax bills for the last five years and the deed to his house showing that he’d paid off his mortgage three years ago. She felt no closer to finding Quinn than she had three days ago.

  She’d also dug up several property sales for the family names Jack had narrowed her list to, but she’d have to wait for the details to come in the official documents. Some discrepancies in lot numbers made it difficult to be certain which properties w
ere in question, but Nicole figured they could at least drive through the neighborhoods. Her hunch was that some of the lots were either combined in a sale or split up in a sale—or both, at two different points in history. She could always go back to Jack and see what else was in his files—if she got that desperate.

  Nicole felt the pressure of a Friday afternoon. The county records office would be closed for two days. Jack struck her as a workaholic, but he also had a family, so it was hard to guess what his weekends were like. Tomorrow marked a week since she arrived in Hidden Falls. If she had known that five minutes talking to Quinn before the banquet began was all she was going to get, she would have chosen her topics more carefully. She’d blathered on about some man with a birthmark when she should have been thanking Quinn for his presence in her life.

  She opened the folder and pulled the photograph to the front.

  “Has no one ever told you that you look like your grandfather or something?” she said.

  “That man is not my grandfather.” Ethan kept his eyes on the road. “I knew my Grandpa Jordan, and my mother’s father was a fair-haired Swede. I’ve seen pictures.”

  “Then somebody else. An uncle? Cousin?”

  “I’ve never seen that photo before. I’m sure the resemblance is just coincidence.”

  “Ethan, look at this!”

  “I’m driving.”

  “This is no coincidence.” Nicole closed the folder. “Lauren thinks you should just ask your parents. I told her you wouldn’t do that.”

  “You were right.”

  “I know. But I agree with Lauren. If we want to find out who this is, then your parents are the best bet.”

  Ethan gave her a fast glance. “I think I’ll take my chances on Quinn coming home. If that picture has anything to do with what he wanted to tell me, I’ll find out soon enough.”

  Six days was already too late for “soon enough” in Nicole’s opinion.

  Her foot throbbed, but if she asked Ethan for some ibuprofen he would insist on taking her home for ice and a pain pill. It was hard to think straight. Nicole reached for her water bottle and dumped the last of its twenty ounces into her mouth.

  “I’m usually better at my job than this,” she said. “I can’t remember the last time I came up so empty-handed.” And now perhaps she didn’t have a job to go back to. She checked her phone again, looking for an e-mail, a text message, a voice mail icon—anything from Reggie telling her what was happening at the paper.

  “Quinn was in St. Louis, and he was fine,” Ethan said. “He’s going to come home.”

  “You could drive me to St. Louis now,” she said. “I don’t need surgery. I just have to be careful.”

  Ethan didn’t speak. Nicole watched the way he worked his lips in and out.

  “Just say it, Ethan.”

  “I have to go home to Columbus. I’m probably in serious hot water as it is.”

  “How bad is it?” Nicole had gotten so used to having him at her side she’d forgotten Ethan had his own dilemma.

  “I don’t think I’ve let any surgeries fall through the cracks, but my chief is not going to be happy with me.”

  “Are you going to get kicked out of your residency?”

  He didn’t answer.

  “Ethan?”

  “I don’t know. It’s possible. Are you losing your job?”

  “It’s possible.” She looked out the passenger window at the fall countryside. “I should never have questioned how you could leave that first night without knowing what happened to Quinn. Just because I couldn’t go didn’t mean you shouldn’t have.”

  “I made my own choice, Nicole, and for my own reasons.”

  He reached across the console for her hand, and she gave it to him.

  “I can’t say I’m sorry you’re here,” she said, “but I’m sorry you took such a risk and it turned out like this.”

  “I’m not.”

  Nicole held on to his hand but didn’t look at him. She had nothing to do with the changes at her paper, but if Ethan lost his job—his career—it could be because of her, no matter what he said.

  “Are we still going to the cemetery now?” he asked.

  “Old Dom,” she murmured. “He may be our best hope now.”

  Ethan turned into the cemetery from the back side and circled around the curved roads to the main building that housed the offices. Nicole waited for him to come around and hold the door open while she got her crutches situated.

  At the desk inside, Ethan asked for Dominick. They still didn’t know if the name was his first or last.

  “Mmm,” said the pleasant looking young woman at a computer. “Not too many people come looking for Dom. He keeps his own hours.”

  “So he still works here?” Given his age, Nicole wasn’t sure whether to be shocked or relieved.

  “Not officially.” The nameplate said the young woman’s name was Jasmine. “But he likes to putter around, and he knows a lot of things no one else does, so they don’t mind if he comes and goes.”

  “If he’s on the grounds, where would he likely be?” Nicole asked.

  Jasmine pointed out the door. “Just go around the back of the building. There’s a room he calls his office.”

  Nicole hopped on one foot to turn around and set her crutches in a new direction. Ethan went ahead of her to open the door. Outside, a sidewalk ran alongside the building, easing her effort.

  At the back of the building, Ethan tried the only door they saw. It opened.

  “It looks more like a storeroom than an office,” he said.

  “He was a groundskeeper,” Nicole said. “It wouldn’t be the kind of office you expect.”

  Ethan felt around for a light switch. An overhead lamp went on, revealing an old wooden desk and the most uncomfortable looking chair Nicole had ever seen. But she needed a chair just then, so when Ethan pulled it out for her, she sat in it.

  “He may not even be here today,” Ethan said. “Do you want to wait? I could go ask some other people.”

  She wanted to put her foot up. Instead she stretched it out in front of her and tried to find an angle that didn’t shoot pain up her leg.

  “You’re not feeling well,” Ethan said.

  “No, Dr. Jordan, I’m not.”

  “Let’s go,” he said. “We’re going to get you home.”

  Nicole took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Unfortunately, I have to admit you’re right.”

  Ethan held her crutches and Nicole pulled herself upright. She looked up to see an old man shuffle through the doorway.

  “Goodness,” he said, “if I’d known I was having company, I’d have brought hot chocolate for you.” He sipped from a steaming cup.

  “Excuse us,” Ethan said, “we’re actually just on our way out.”

  “No,” Nicole said. “He’s here now. We might as well ask our questions.”

  “What questions are those?” Old Dom set down his hot chocolate and pulled a handkerchief out of his pocket to blow his nose. “Are you looking for your mother’s grave?”

  She blanched. Nicole hadn’t been to her mother’s grave in fifteen years. “You remember me?”

  “I remember a lot of folks.”

  “Do you know Ted Quinn?” she asked.

  “Of course. He hasn’t been out to visit me for a couple of weeks, though.”

  Nicole’s eyes widened. “Quinn comes to visit you?”

  “He likes to look at my books.”

  “Your books?” Nicole saw nothing around the office but sparse furniture and a space heater.

  Old Dom shuffled across the room, taking keys off a chain hanging from his belt. He unlocked a door Nicole hadn’t even noticed and turned on a light.

  “I started keeping these books with my daddy when I was just a boy.”

  The room was only about nine by twelve, but three walls had counters and shelves. Several oversized record ledgers lay open. Nicole could see they were filled with handwritten entries.

&nbs
p; “Quinn always said genealogy was a hobby,” Old Dom said. “I let him think I believed him.”

  “But you didn’t?”

  “He was looking for something. Lately I got the idea that he might have found it.”

  4:02 p.m.

  The trail wasn’t one that recreational visitors to Hidden Falls used, which was why Dani chose it. The only sounds she wanted to hear were her own feet hitting the ground, breaking the occasional twig underfoot, and the orchestra of nature. Birds calling to each other, squirrels chasing each other up one tree and down another, wind scratching leaves, insects buzzing, water hitting rock in the distance—those were the sounds that would soothe Dani. At this time of year, she could count on a thick layer of fallen oak and maple and river birch leaves swirling, dry and shriveling, as Dani shuffled through them.

  Quinn always liked the crunching sound. He said stepping on leaves and watching them crumble was his way of making sure the organic matter got back into the soil. Some future generation would thank him.

  Dani and Quinn had hiked this trail together about three weeks earlier. If she followed the path in a strict way, Dani would end up at a high point overlooking the river. By then she would be ready to sit for a few minutes in the dirt on the bluff, with her feet dangling over the river.

  At the sound of a crunching step that wasn’t hers, Dani paused. Slowly, she put her foot down and turned to look behind her. A white tennis shoe disappeared into the brush on one side of the trail.

  Dani peered into the trees. “There’s poison oak in there.”

  The warning caused a brief flurry of movement, but the owner of the tennis shoe did not emerge onto the trail.

  Dani knew she couldn’t prevent others from using the trails, but that didn’t stop her from wishing for solitude each time she set out to hike. She turned back to the trail and pulled a bag of dates from her vest pocket. Sliding one into her mouth, Dani chewed into its sweetness with deliberation but hiked at a normal pace. A couple of glances over her shoulder revealed no one behind her on the path.

  Yet she knew she wasn’t alone.

  The woods were thick in this stretch, with low-lying growths filling in places where sunlight wormed its way through branches. But Dani knew well the sounds of the forest, and what she heard now didn’t belong there—any more than the shadows she’d seen outside her cabin on the lake belonged there.