Remembrance

by T K Eldridge

  “My mother’s things, things from when we lived here. I was told your parents boxed it all up and put it in the attic. I looked in there once when I first moved back and then locked it up again.”

  “So, let me check it out. I won’t go through boxes or anything, just make sure that asshole isn’t up there, hiding.”

  “I appreciate it, but no. I’ll check it out myself later. Seriously, I will,” she replied. “But I’m not opening it for you. It is something I need to do it myself.”

  “You’re being stubborn, Emlen.”

  “Yep.” A sip of her tea hid her smile. She looked up at him through her lashes. “Go home, Cullen.”

  Shaking his head, Cullen stepped up and kissed her forehead, then headed out the door. “Lock up behind me, woman!” he called out and she set down her mug, heading to the door to lock it behind him. Turning back, she pulled the key out of her pocket, rubbing her thumb over it as she headed for the stairs. Pausing by the front door, she pulled out the drawer in the credenza and took out a Glock 9mm, checking to make sure there was a round in the chamber before heading up the steps to the attic door.

  Heart pounding, Emlen held her breath as she carefully turned the key in the lock. The gun aimed at the opening, she gently nudged the door wide. Right hand holding the gun, her left reached in and slid up the wall to hit the switch, bathing the attic space in the yellow glow of two bare bulbs. Using the training she’d gained from her bodyguards, she swept the room, clearing it of any possible hidden person.

  Not finding a living soul in the cluttered space, Em tucked the gun into the back of her pants and started really looking through the room. Boxes, bits of furniture, old lamps, a large basket full of her baby toys. Her fingers toyed with the hair of what had once been her favorite doll, one her mother had got for her that looked like her - auburn hair and violet eyes. The memories washed over her and she closed her eyes, taking a slow breath, filling her lungs with the scent of vanilla musk. Turning, she pulled a box marked ‘clothes’ towards her and pulled off the top, the scent of the perfume growing stronger. A silk scarf lay on top and she lifted it, pressing it to her nose and breathing in the faded scent of perfume. “Mom’s perfume,” she murmured, finally placing that fragrance that had been haunting her since she came back. Looping the scarf around her neck, she looked in the box a little more before closing it and setting it aside. The one underneath it was marked ‘photo albums’ so she picked it up and headed out of the room, shutting off the light, but leaving the door open.

  She’d faced what was up there and now it was time to air the space out a bit. Cullen may have thought she was being stubborn but going up there was ripping off a bandage. She didn’t know what she would find or how emotional it would make her. Showing emotion meant showing weakness and she didn’t know him that well yet.

  Laying the gun on her nightstand, Emlen sat with the box on her bed and opened it, taking out the plastic baggie of loose photos and the three albums tucked inside. Rubbing her hands together, then rubbing them over her face, she took a moment to calm herself. Picking up the one covered in faded pink silk with “E.B.” in embossed gold letters on the cover above a cherub holding flowers. “My baby book,” she murmured, opening to the first page. Her name, date of birth, weight and length, the hospital she’d been born in and what time were all on the page. Ink prints of her hands and feet were there too. The next page had been torn out, but the edge of it closest to the binding was enough to show it would have listed her parents. “Moth…” and “Fat.” were all that were left of the page. “Guess she didn’t want me to know that,” she muttered to herself and turned the page again. A photo of her as a baby was there, held in what were clearly a man’s hands. Pulling the book closer to the light, she examined the picture and noticed what seemed like part of a tattoo on the inside of the man’s left arm. She knew her grandfather and uncle didn’t have any tattoos, so this had to be her father. “My first clue.” She grinned. Getting to her feet, she carried the book into the kitchen, digging in a drawer to find the magnifying glass she had stuck there after going over the police file photos. Turning the overhead light on, she held the book up and used the glass to really examine the image. “Damn, I can’t tell what it is a tattoo of. Maybe a bird?” A groan and she lay the book on the counter, then started turning more pages to see if there was another image of the man. Nothing. “Dammit!” She tossed the glass on the counter and folded her arms, starting to pace back and forth. “I need to know what that tat is!”

  “It’s an eagle.” The voice soft, barely a whisper, as the fragrance grew stronger.

  “What?” Emlen asked, spinning around in a circle, thinking there was a person nearby, but really knowing there was no one there. “What did you say? Who is it?” Fingers pressed to her lips and she whispered, “Mom? Is that you?”

  “The tattoo. It is an eagle. Blue album,” the voice whispered back and then the scent faded.

  “Blue album,” Emlen murmured, then turned, darting into the bedroom. She pulled the blue album off her bed, flipping it open. She didn’t even question that she’d just gained a clue from her dead mother’s ghost.

  “Aha!” she called out, pulling a photo free from the page. Another one of a man holding her when she was about a year old, but only from the neck down. A full image of the tattoo was in the photo - and it was an eagle with ‘semper fi’ in a banner clutched in its talons. “A Marine tattoo. Well, now we’re getting somewhere.”

  Pulling her phone out, she started snapping photos of the images, then texted the two to Cullen with a message “look what I found!’ Taking a few minutes more, considering how the other stuff had been damaged, she took photos of all of the pages of all of the albums and uploaded them to her cloud storage. A yawn hit her hard enough to make her ears pop and she shook her head, stacking the albums back in the box and tucking it under the edge of her bed. Falling into bed, she stretched and pulled a pillow to her chest before closing her eyes. She was going to sleep with a light on tonight.

  Chapter Eleven

  Cullen didn’t see the texts until morning, and it took a second cup of coffee before the import of the texts registered. “Holy shit,” he yelled and jumped to his feet, staring at his phone. “That has to be her father. No bloody face, but that tat…” he hit a button and called his brother. “Mornin’, Connor.”

  “Morning, Cull. What do ya need?” Connor replied.

  “Can’t I just be calling to say hello to my little brother?”

  “Sure. Hello. Now whatcha want?” He sounded irritated and more than a little stressed.

  “Easy, Conn. I’ve been helping Uncle Joel with some research and I found a photo of a tattoo, I was wondering if you could run it through the database for me?”

  Connor sighed and Cullen heard the desk chair creak as Connor leaned back. “Yeah, okay. Send it over and I’ll…” a faint ‘ting’ signaled a message coming in on Connor’s phone and he laughed. “…yeah, I got it. Okay, I’ll see what I can find and get back to you.”

  “And Connor…” Cullen added, voice low. “…keep it on the down-low. We don’t want anyone knowing about the photo or that we’re looking into things on this old case. A woman’s life depends on it.”

  “A woman’s…wait. What case is this, Cull?”

  “The Brewster murder,” Cullen said.

  Silence met his words for a good minute before Connor spoke. “She’s back in town?”

  “Yeah, back at the old place,” Cullen replied.

  “I’ll come by your place tonight?” Connor asked. “I’ll bring the results by.”

  “Sounds like a plan. See you tonight.” Cullen hung up the phone laying it on the table. Now to see if he could get Emlen to agree to the plan to bring his brother in on the case. He leaned back and sipped his coffee, gaze drifting to the view of the ocean beyond his window. He’d finished up the last construction job almost two weeks ahead of schedule and it was a good thing since he needed this time now to help Emlen. He
had trouble thinking about anything else these days and with the break-in at her house last night, his worry for her had increased tenfold. It had taken him a while to fall asleep because he kept getting up and checking out the windows to see if anyone was creeping around her house; to see if the cruiser was still sitting guard; to see if there was anything to worry about. He felt a little sorry for her, noticing the light in her room had been on all night - not that he blamed her for that in the least.

  Finishing his coffee, he put the mug in the sink and then grinned, remembering he still had her little cooler to return after cleaning up the beach picnic last night. Stepping out onto the porch, he stuffed his feet into his sneakers and picked up the cooler, jogging down the steps towards her place. Knocking on the door, he glanced over to where the cruiser still sat and waved at the officers inside before turning to smile at Emlen as she opened the door. “Good morning. I brought your cooler back and wanted to chat.”

  Emlen had apparently just finished dressing after a shower and the light purple tank top and denim shorts looked cool and comfortable, her damp hair braided out of the way. “Morning, Cullen. Come on in. Coffee should be done, and we’ve got some stuff to go over.”

  His gaze was on her butt as he sets the cooler down near the back door and followed her into the kitchen. “Do you have any paper cups? Those guys outside could probably use some coffee.”

  “Already handled, along with some muffins from that bakery on Main. I bought a bunch yesterday morning. They were quite appreciative.” Emlen grinned at him and poured two mugs, handing him one. “So, you got my texts from last night?” She led him from the kitchen into the living room and curled up on the couch, the box of photo albums sitting on the coffee table.

  “Yeah, so you think that’s your Dad?”

  “I’m pretty sure it is. None of the photos have his face, though. The only lead we’ve got is the tattoo and the fact he was in New York and Boston between the time I was born and when I was about two. That’s when he is no longer in the photos. It was about a year later that Mom moved us here.”

  “It’s not a standard Marine Corps tattoo - looks custom, so I did something you might not be happy with…” Cullen started to speak, then glanced up at her. “I told Connor you were here when I asked him to run the photo of the tat through the database.”

  “Are you serious?” Emlen gasped, staring at him. “What part of ‘don’t tell anyone’ did you miss? Even Joel said to not tell anyone else. If it was okay to tell Connor, don’t you think he would’ve said it was?”

  “Joel probably figured I’d already told Connor. I mean, we tell each other practically everything. Always have. Besides, we don’t have access to that database and Connor does. We need his help. And no, this doesn’t compromise him as a cop either, because it’s a cold case and you’re not a suspect or anything.”

  “Gee, that’s comforting,” Emlen muttered and sipped her coffee. “Well, it’s done now. How long do we have to wait to hear from him?”

  “Would you like to come over for dinner tonight? Steaks on the grill, a couple of sides, some beer…” Cullen asked.

  “And a chance to talk to your brother about his findings, assuming he gets any?” Emlen gave him a wry laugh and shook her head. “I guess so. I’ll bring some potato salad or something.” She nodded towards the box. “Take a look. My baby album and a couple of other photo albums, and a plastic baggie full of loose photos. I’ve been through all of them and scanned them up to the cloud, and I didn’t see any more of the tat or of any that could be that guy.”

  Cullen put down his coffee and pulled the box to him, taking out the baby album first and slowly flipping through it. “Whoever your father was, your Mom was really angry with him if she all but erased him from this,” he murmured after a few minutes of looking.

  “Yeah, I got that impression too,” Emlen replied, sipping her coffee and watching Cullen’s face as he looked through the album. A frown furrowed his brow and he flipped back and forth between a few pages and then pulled out his phone and typed something. “What’re you looking up?”

  “Someone looked familiar and I’m trying to see if I’m right or just imagining things,” Cullen said.

  Leaning over, Emlen looked at his phone and then the photos. “Oh, that’s Uncle J.C. He’s not really a blood uncle, but a friend of my grandparents. Judge Jackson.”

  Cullen looked up at her and then back at the photos. “Senator Jackson’s father?”

  “Wait, his son is a senator?” Emlen asked, then shook her head. “The guy always made me feel really uncomfortable. Like one of those creepy uncles that you avoid because he keeps trying to get you to sit on his lap.”

  “Yeah, his son, John F. Jackson is one of the senators from Massachusetts,” Cullen replied. “And most recently, the Vice Presidential candidate on Hugh Bannerman’s ticket.”

  “I’m not surprised that someone with those kinds of connections is tied to my grandparents,” Emlen offered. “They’ve hosted Kennedy and Shriver events at their Boston townhouse. They have strategically placed photos of themselves with several US Presidents and celebrities around the house. It’s kind of nauseating, honestly.”

  “Nauseating?” Cullen asked, laughing a little at her choice of words.

  “Yeah, because they’re assholes with a false sense of grandeur. Sure, there’s money in the family that goes back a couple of generations. Most of it came from my great-great-grandmother’s family when they escaped Europe during World War I. Sure, we’ve got the Brewster name and ties to the Mayflower, but so do hundreds of thousands of other average, every day poor people.”

  “My mom says that we’re descended from a couple of the Mayflower families too. I can’t remember, she does that genealogy stuff now that she’s retired.” Cullen leaned back with his coffee. “So, Connor is running the tattoo through the Tatt-C database and we’ll see if something comes up. Maybe it will narrow down the field of people to consider. Also, CSI didn’t find any prints other than yours, mine and the last couple of tenants in this place, so no leads on who broke in last night.”

  “I’ve been thinking about that. I don’t think they came here just to mess with the files, because the only ones that knew about them were you, Joel and me. Unless you told someone else?” Her tone shifted to slightly accusatory as she eyed him over the rim of her cup.

  “I didn’t tell Connor until this morning and he’s the only one I’ve spoken to about any of this since we got the boxes from Joel.”

  “I’m wondering if maybe someone figured out who I am, in spite of the disguise and all. It’s not like I have really worked hard at hiding - just doing my usual ‘not being blatant’ tactic. So, maybe someone saw me and saw that I was living here and put two and two together.”

  Cullen reached for a photo in the album and pulled it free. “Well, it could be someone who really knew your Mom too, because you look a lot like her. See?” He handed her the photo and watched her reaction.

  “Yeah, I didn’t realize how much we looked alike until last night. There are no photos of my mother at my grandparents’ house or at my aunt’s place either. It’s like they tried to erase her from the family or something.”

  “Your coloring is different. Her hair is blonde and her eyes blue, but your features are a lot like hers. Someone wouldn’t have to work hard to put together that you’re her daughter.”

  “And yet again, we haven’t narrowed down anything because we’ve been all over town and I’ve even gone out to Provincetown a couple of times, so it could be anyone from anywhere.” Emlen sighed and rubbed a hand over her face. “Wait…did you tell Joel about the break in last night? I feel so bad, all those hard copies destroyed after so many years of being safe.”

  “No, let me call him and make sure he’s okay,” Cullen replied and pulled out his phone. “Hey, Uncle Joel, give me a call. It’s important.” Glancing over at Emlen, he sighed, “Voicemail.”

  Emlen’s fingers toyed with the mug for a few mome
nts then put it down. “I may not be a cop, but I’m getting a weird feeling. Can we take a ride over and check on him?”

  “A weird feeling?” Cullen asked, setting his own mug down.

  “Well, there was a lot of Joel’s information in those files, including his current address. I was going over the files in my cloud, matching things up with photos and realized how much of his information was in there. That means whomever trashed my place…”

  “…has his information,” Cullen finished and got to his feet. “Get your shoes and lock up, let’s go.” He jogged to the door and out, heading up to his place to grab his keys, wallet and truck. Didn’t take him more than three minutes before he was pulling up in front of Emlen’s house. As she climbed into the truck, he called out to the cops sitting on the house. “Hey guys, we need to go run an errand. Keep an eye on the place and we’ll be back within an hour, all right?” They nodded, waved and Cullen’s truck went tearing down the drive. Fifteen minutes later, they pulled up in front of Joel’s, the truck barely shut off before they ran up onto the porch.

  “Joel! JOEL!” Emlen called out as she got to the door. She went to grab the handle and Cullen grabbed her hand.

  “No, Emlen, don’t touch it.” He pulled his gun out of the holster tucked in the back of his jeans and tugged her to stand against the side of the door, back to the solid wall of the house. He kept his gaze on the door and asked, “Look to the docks, do you see his boat?”

  “Yes, it’s there,” Emlen murmured, face pale. “We need to go inside, Cull.” The sure knowledge that something was horribly wrong hit Emlen in waves, making her breath hitch and her body shake. The only other time she’d felt like this had been when she was nine. Whatever was behind that door, she was certain it was bad.

  Cullen gave her a nod then gestured for her to stay put as he carefully opened the door. The inside door was open about an inch and he used the tip of his gun to nudge the door wider. “Uncle Joel?” he called out before stepping inside. He could smell the coppery tang of blood about three paces inside. The room had been ransacked, so Cullen walked carefully through the debris as he cleared the space, making sure the perpetrators were no longer there. Stepping around the wall that separated the living area from the kitchen, he found Joel’s body on the floor.