“That’s right.”
Jordan stood up and walked to the door.
Dr. Conley followed, pausing when she got there. She put out her arms, gave Jordan a quick hug, and said, “Jordan, you take care now, alright?”
Jordan nodded and said, “Thanks…Karen. I will.”
Karen was on her way to her car when Jordan called out after her, “By the way, that guy you were with at the banquet tonight? I hope that you running over here ruined his evening!”
Karen turned back, smiled, and said, “There’s hope for you yet, Jordan Nichols.”
Chapter 35
They were the darkest days of his life, and I didn’t know it at the time. People had helped me to dig out of the darkness, but Dad was still there. And the day after he lost his best friend, our two worlds collided. Now, I know why.
Curious onlookers turned to watch as Molly struggled, sweat covering her brow. She was carrying, and at times dragging, her new oil painting down the beach. The heat and humidity were one thing. But the real problem was the breeze coming off the ocean. It kept trying to rip the painting from Molly’s tiny hands as she stretched her arms all the way across the canvas to grab onto the sides of the wooden frame. When she finally reached Raymond’s cottage, she leaned the painting against the porch railing and knocked. Raymond opened the door, saw the painting, and asked, “What’s this all about? You’re not moving in here, you know.”
Molly smiled, lifted the painting up, pushed past Raymond, and leaned it against a wall.
“Of course not. I need to hide this from my dad.”
“Oh…that’s right. You want it to be a surprise. Let me see how it’s coming along.”
Raymond went into his studying mode, moving in and out, up and down, and talking to himself.
Molly anxiously awaited his verdict. He stepped back, turned to her, and said, “You know, Miss Molly, for the first time you’ve ever worked with oils, I am very impressed. But you do have a ways to go yet!”
Molly’s face lit up.
“Thank you! And that’s the other reason I’m here. Can you help me? I don’t mean with painting, but just give me some more tips while I finish it? I couldn’t figure a few things out, and I want it to be perfect.”
“Well, you caught me in a good mood, so grab the easel in the corner over there, and we’ll see what we can do. But, for the record, nothing is ever perfect.”
“I know. And my mom used to tell me nothing is ever done, either.”
Raymond smiled.
As Raymond was talking to Molly, Jordan pulled up in front of Jenna’s house. He went in the front door and walked into the kitchen where Jenna was cleaning up from the night before. She had her favorite local radio station on and was singing along to the music with her back to the hallway. As Jordan walked in, the radio station broke to news coverage.
In local news, there was a shooting at Wilson’s Swash late last night. One police officer was killed, and another man seriously wounded. The suspect or suspects are still at large, and an investigation is underway. None of the names have been released, pending notification of their next of kin.
Jenna had just started to turn around when she saw Jordan walk over and slam his hand on the top of the radio, turning it off. Startled, she said, “Oh my God, I didn’t even hear you come in. Did you know him?”
“Who?”
“The cop who was killed!”
“No. He was some new guy. Is Molly around? I need to talk to her for a couple of minutes. It’s important.”
Jenna saw the wear and tear on Jordan’s face and asked, “What’s wrong? You’re scaring me!”
Jordan waved her off, saying, “Just police crap. There’s a cop killer out there.”
“Yeah, well you be careful. Let somebody else be the hero. As for Molly, she’s outside, painting. And by the way, I think she’s working on something for you, for your birthday, so don’t you dare peek at it.”
“No worries.”
Jordan looked out the door. Then he opened it and walked out onto the deck. A minute later, he came back inside and said, “Huh! She’s not out there. I don’t even see an easel.”
Jordan turned toward the hall and yelled, “Molly? You in here?”
No answer.
Jenna said, “That’s weird. Maybe she decided to go for a walk.”
“But you said she was painting, and I didn’t see anything out there at all.”
“Uh, oh! The other day, she told me that some old guy was helping her with her painting. I insisted that I meet him, but… I wonder if that’s where she went!”
Jordan said, “I’m not liking this! You head north, toward the pier. I’ll head south. Ask around. Find out if anyone has seen her.”
“Okay. I’ll take my cell phone along and keep you posted. Oh…if you happen to see a girl with crazy-looking blue hair, she’s a friend of Molly’s.”
“Crazy blue hair huh? Okay!”
And they both headed off in opposite directions.
Raymond was in full teaching mode. He had Molly’s painting on the easel and was standing behind her, giving out advice as she painted. He had set up a makeshift palette, using a flap off one of the cardboard boxes, laying out vertical rows of different shades of the same color and horizontal rows from different color groups. He paused, and then walked away and started rooting through boxes, looking for something.
Molly put down her paintbrush, followed after him, and asked, “What are you looking for?”
“Turpentine. We need to thin out the paint a little bit more. The last pass needs to be thin. You get more detail, more character, that way.”
“Mr. Raymond?”
Perturbed by the interruption, Raymond asked, “Yes? What is it now?”
Molly smiled and asked, “Can I give you a hug?”
Raymond was caught off guard. He smiled and asked, “What for?”
“For making painting fun again.”
He looked away, deep in thought, and then said, “Well, why not? I guess I owe you one as well,” as he got down on one knee.
“How come?”
He chuckled and said, “For making me feel relevant again.”
“What do you mean, relevant?”
“Someday, you’ll understand.”
They hugged, and then Raymond glanced at a nearby cardboard box and said, “Well, as long as I’m down here.” He pulled open the flaps on the box, reached in, and latched onto something. He said, “Aha, I found it, I think!”
He pulled out an old metal quart container without any label on it. He took the lid off, sniffed it, and pulled back. “Yup, that’s it all right.”
Raymond went to stand up, using one hand to push off his knee as he held the can out in front of him with his other hand. He was almost up when his foot caught on the corner of the cardboard box and he stumbled forward, bumping into Molly on his way back down to the floor.
Molly, embarrassed for him, hesitated and then asked, “Are you alright?”
Raymond laughed and said, “Yes. I’m fine. Just don’t ever get old, Miss Molly.”
He held out his hand and asked, “Can you give me a hand here? The old bones aren’t moving so well today.”
“Sure.” Molly held out her hand and pulled as hard as she could.
Raymond popped up to his feet and straightened himself up. He looked down and said, “Oh, would you look at that!”
Turpentine had spilled down the front of his shirt.
And then he noticed a few spots on Molly’s blouse.
“Oh, and on you, too. Doesn’t that sting?”
Molly looked down at her blouse and nodded.
“All right then. Let me get you something to clean that up. I’m so sorry.”
Back on the beach, Jordan worked his way toward the inlet, asking people if they had seen a twelve-year-old girl with strawberry blond hair. Then he saw Blue and her friends. He jogged over to her and asked, “It’s Blue, right?”
“Yeah. That’s what the
y call me.”
“Have you seen Molly?”
Blue shrugged her shoulders and said, “No, just got here.”
“Please, it’s really important. If you see her, tell her I’m looking for her, okay?”
Jordan turned to leave when Blue called out, “Wait!”
Jordan pulled to a stop and turned back.
“I know where she might be.”
She pointed up at Raymond’s cottage.
“She spends a lot of time with the old man who lives up there. He’s a painter.”
Jordan turned and ran toward the cottage, leaving Blue and her friends behind. When he got there, he knocked on the door, but no one answered. He knocked again and pushed the door open. His eyes scanned the room, taking in the boxes, the paintings, and the leftover bags from fast food restaurants. And then Molly walked out from the back hall with a wet towel, dabbing at her blouse. Raymond was right behind her, trying to button up the clean shirt he was putting on.
Jordan’s rage was instantaneous. He rushed Raymond, pulling one of his arms behind his back as he used his other forearm to push Raymond’s head tight to the wall.
“What are you doing with my daughter, you son of a bitch? If you so much as touched her, I'll end you right now!”
“Touched your daughter?”
Molly screamed, “Dad, stop! He didn’t do anything!”
“You God-damned pervert. What were you doing?”
“I beg your pardon!”
“Dad, he’s a painter! He wasn't doing anything! Let him go!”
Molly ran up to Jordan and pulled on his waist yelling, “Stop it. I said Stop it!”
Jordan took one of his hands off Raymond and yelled, “Stay back!” as he pushed Molly away. She lost her balance and stumbled backward, falling against the easel. The easel crashed to the ground, sending the painting cartwheeling across the floor with Molly close behind. She fell on her haunches, but as she reached her arm back to break her fall, her hand caught the painting and went through the canvas, putting a big tear in it.
Jordan snapped his head around and found Molly curled up against the wall, her face reflecting the same fear he had seen on it once before.
“Oh, honey, I’m so sorry. Are you alright?”
Molly’s eyes darted around, trying to make sense of what had just happened. She looked at Raymond, then at the painting, and then at her father.
Her fear turned to anger, and she screamed, “What’s wrong with you? All he did was spill something!”
Jordan looked at Raymond, then back at Molly, and he sensed that he was in the wrong. “I’m sorry, Molly. I didn’t mean to…I…”
“You didn’t mean to what? Ruin my life? I hate you!”
She started crying, jumped up, and ran out of the door. Jordan released his hold on Raymond and ran after her, stopping outside when he saw her sprinting full speed up the beach. “Shit.”
Jordan took out his phone.
“Jen, listen! I found her, but we had a big fight. I’ll explain later, but for now, please watch for her. She took off running in your direction. As soon as you see her, give me a call, okay? Thanks.”
When Jordan walked back inside the house, he found Raymond looking down at Molly’s painting, shaking his head. Raymond turned to Jordan and said, “Mister, you have no idea the harm you’ve just done to that little girl of yours.”
“Maybe. But I still want to know what was going in here.”
“I spilled some turpentine on my shirt, and I was cleaning up. Just take a whiff. You can still smell it.”
Raymond pointed to a wet spot on the floor, “Take a look, I dropped the can right over there. But what you need to know is that painting sitting there in the corner…the one with the big hole in it…Molly painted it for you. It was going to be a surprise for your birthday, but you…you just made a real mess of things.”
Raymond shook his head in disgust, turned away, and said, “Yes, sir, a real mess.”
Jordan pleaded his case, saying, “I’m sorry, but when I came in and saw you walking out of your bedroom, putting on a shirt, I thought you… Well, we live in different times these days.”
“Yes, we certainly do. And I still carry the scars from the times that I grew up in. You know, when you threw me against the wall, it took me back to when people of color weren’t treated like human beings.”
“I may be a lot of things, but I’m not a racist.”
“Didn’t say you were. But then again, didn’t you just call me a pervert? I’m not that either.”
Jordan dropped his head, rubbed his hand through his hair, and said, “You’re right. And I’m sorry about what I said—and what I just did. But it wasn’t out of hatred.”
“I suspect not. I’d like to think it was out of love—for your daughter.”
Raymond pointed to one of his recliners and said, “Please, sit down, I want to talk to you.”
They both sat down as Raymond let out a sigh and said, “Now that feels better. But I’m gonna be awful sore come tomorrow morning.”
“I know, and again, I’m sorry.”
“Apology accepted. Now, what I want to talk about is hate. I saw a lot of it growing up. By the time I was fifteen, I was headed down the wrong path. I’d see what the white punks did to my father when we drove into town to pick up groceries, and it made my blood boil. But I was lucky. I had two loving parents who taught me something I’ve never forgotten: that hatred acknowledged turns into hatred returned. Hatred begets hatred. You understand what I’m trying to say?”
“I do, sir.”
“Good, because truth be told, I saw some hate in your eyes just before. I know you were trying to protect Molly, but I want you to remember what I just told you. Hatred is not the Lord’s way.” Raymond pushed himself up from his chair and said, “And that’s all I’ve got to say about that, so you get out of here and go find that little girl of yours, okay?”
Jordan stood up and said, “Yes, sir, thank you, sir. I didn’t catch your name.”
“Wilkins. Raymond Wilkins.”
“No, it can’t be!”
“Pretty sure it is.”
“Well, this is crazy! I’ve been trying to track you down for the past twenty-four hours. Did you know you don’t have a forwarding address?”
“Of course. I came here to be left alone. Hasn’t worked out that way though.”
“Do you know a woman by the name of Florence Phillips?”
“I do. She was my wife’s best friend.”
“Then you have a gun in your possession, one that Mrs. Phillips gave to you to safekeep. Am I right?”
“I do. But how is that any of your concern?”
“Because I have reason to believe that gun was used to murder my wife, Molly’s mother. Could I see it?”
“Oh, dear Lord. Of course, you can.” Raymond got up and walked toward the hutch as he said, “It’s right here under the hutch.”
He opened the door and went to reach for the gun. “Oh, no!”
“What is it?”
“Why, it’s gone!”
“What do you mean, gone?”
Raymond pointed to the empty shelf and said, “I kept it right there on the shelf. Someone must have taken it!”
“Who had access?”
“No one. No one comes in here. That is, except Molly!”
“Oh God. Was it loaded?”
“Afraid so!”
Chapter 36
I wish I hadn’t done it, because I can still see the hurt on my Aunt Jenna’s face. It was also the day that I realized how much Blue and I really did have in common—if only for a short time.
Molly ran straight up the beach until she saw Blue waving her arms at her. Molly slowed down and ran to her, wiping away some tears on the way. Blue looked at her and asked, “What’s wrong? Your dad was out here looking for you!”
“I hate him!”
“Hey, join the crowd. What did he do?”
“Nothing. I just want to get away from
him—forever!”
“Well, I have the old man’s car today. Wanna go for a ride?”
And then they heard a voice call out, “Molly!” They both turned and saw Jenna, about 200 feet away, running toward them.
Molly looked at Blue and blurted out, “Where is it?”
“Right over there,” Blue said, as she pointed toward Chatham Avenue, a beach access road that dead-ended about 100 yards away.
Molly glanced at Jenna, hesitated, and then said, “Come on. Let’s go.”
Molly took off running toward the car as Blue tried to keep up. Jenna hesitated for a split second, and then took off after them yelling, “Molly, where are you going? Come back here!”
Jenna was a good athlete and in excellent shape. She managed to close the gap to less than fifty feet by the time Molly and Blue got to the car. They jumped in, Blue started it up, and they pulled out, kicking up sand on their way. Jenna pulled up and screamed “Molly” as she watched them drive off. Blue jubilantly yelled, “Yes! We did it.” But Molly, looking out the back window, couldn’t help but feel bad as she watched her aunt standing there, a look of desperation on her face.
Jenna pulled out her cell phone and called Jordan.
“Jordan, it’s Jen. I found Molly, but when she saw me, she took off running.”
“You catch up to her?”
“No. She was with Blue, and they jumped into her car and drove away. What’s going on here?”
“Did you get a look at the car?”
“Yeah. It was an old, maybe fifteen-year-old General Motors sedan. Faded green, I think.”
“Okay, I’m gonna call it in, but in the meantime, do me a favor. Tybee’s a tight community, so ask around. Somebody’s got to know where this Blue girl lives. We need to find out the exact model and color of that car. Better yet, maybe you can get her cell phone number. This isn’t good, not at all.”
“Why? Tell me what’s going on!”
“Not now. Please, just do as I ask. I need to head to Savannah, but they’ll have to go the same way if they leave Tybee, so keep me posted.”
Inside the car, Blue asked Molly, “So where are we headed?”
“Can we go to your place? You know, your hideout?”
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