Treasure Built of Sand (Palmyrton Estate Sale Mystery Series Book 6)

by S. W. Hubbard

  There’s a low grumble from the circle of half-siblings. Some nod, but some shake their heads.

  Gregory takes a deep breath to regroup. It seems he regrets his outburst. “I’m glad I met you. Happy to stay in touch. But you have to understand something. There’s a reason I never married, never had children that I planned for. I know I’m not cut out to be a good dad. I have no desire for a house and a yard and a two-week vacation to Disneyworld. Kids need stuff like that. And I’m not the man to provide it.”

  Gregory spreads his hands to the group. “You all have fathers. Good men who love you and want to raise you. Why would you want to hurt them?”

  A kid snorts. “My parents have been lying to me for seventeen years. I want them to realize the same thing that they always say to me—actions have consequences.”

  Another laughs out loud. Of all the kids, this one bears the most striking physical resemblance to Gregory: same beaky nose, same wavy hair, same bright blue eyes. “My mom is gay. I have two mothers. I love them both, but a dad would be nice. Even though they think it doesn’t matter.”

  Now Mason steps forward. “After my parents had me with your sperm, my mom got pregnant again—the old-fashioned way. My little brother looks just like our dad, has the same high forehead, the same smile, they even walk the same. They’re both fast runners and love soccer and they’re both allergic to strawberries and neither one can carry a tune but both of them can build anything with Legos.” He stands next to Gregory. “What notes are these?” Mason sings three notes.

  “C sharp, G, A.”

  “Perfect pitch, just like me.” Mason takes a step closer. “And what instrument do I play?”

  “How should I know?” Gregory backs away from the boy’s urgent presence.

  “Oh, you know. You do. Say it. SAY IT.”

  Gregory takes a shuddering breath. “Cello.”

  “Mason...” Austin tries to calm the other boy, but Mason ignores him.

  “And what’s my best subject in school?” he demands of Gregory.

  Gregory purses his lips and refuses to answer.

  “History! Sociology! You and I have all the same interests.” He points to Gregory and then himself. “I’ve read every article about you, every interview. But I’m like a freak in my own family. I have nothing in common with my father and brother. From the moment my brother picked up a soccer ball and pushed away the toy piano, my father favored him. He knows who his real son is. And it’s not me.”

  “Mason, back off.” Austin speaks with the authority his upbringing has embedded in him. “We discussed how this would go.”

  So the kids planned this encounter. Did Gregory have a choice about participating?

  Gregory extends his long, expressive fingers. “Look, Mason, I’m sorry you feel that way. But my father and I don’t have anything in common even though we share the same DNA. He’s cautious and conservative and detail-oriented. He’s everything I’m not, and I’ve always been a disappointment to him. Even now. He thinks a travel podcast is a ridiculous way to earn a living.” Gregory reaches out to put a hand on Mason’s shoulder. “Believe me, being raised by your biological father is no guarantee of happiness.”

  Mason jerks away from Gregory’s touch. “You’re a fish,” he screams. “A freakin’ fish. You sprayed your sperm everywhere and then you swam away.”

  And then I see Mason’s right arm draw backward.

  Chapter 33

  “Watch out!” the warning escapes my lips instinctively. Of course it’s too late. The punch has landed, and Gregory lies sprawled on the floor, blood pouring from his nose onto the pale bleached oak floor.

  The room explodes into pandemonium. Half the kids look up to see who shouted the warning. Two pounce on Mason to pull him away from Gregory.

  Austin sinks to his knees beside the fallen man, his eyes wide with alarm. “You idiot! Look what you’ve done! You’ve destroyed everything.”

  At the same time, the kid named Clark dashes up the stairs toward me. I scramble off the landing, hoping to barricade myself in the first-floor powder room and call 9-1-1.

  Now, I definitely have an emergency.

  But Clark is young, tall, and athletic. He grabs my arm just before I reach the door and jerks me around.

  “What are you doing here? Why were you spying on us?”

  “I wasn’t spying. I came back to the house because I left my iPad here.” I hold up my tote bag as proof. “When I came into the kitchen, I heard voices downstairs. I was just coming down to see who was here when I saw that kid ready to punch that man.” I fudge the truth. There’s no need for them to know how long I was listening.

  Clark drags me toward the stairs. “Come down here until we can decide what to do.”

  I pull back. “No. It’s none of my business. Just let me go home.”

  “Who’s up there?” Austin shouts.

  “That chick from the sale.”

  Austin curses and delivers his command. “Haul her ass down here.”

  Clark’s hand tightens on my biceps, and he drags me toward the stairs.

  He’s bigger and stronger than I am, but he’s not a criminal. He’s just a confused teenager. I use the self-defense skills Sean has taught me: go for his weakest points.

  With my free hand, I bend back his little finger while twisting around to kick him in the groin.

  In a split second, Clark has me pinned on the ground. “I’m a state champion wrestler, bitch. Don’t mess with me.”

  Clearly, I underestimated my opponent.

  He marches me down to the lower level.

  Downstairs, I size up my new reality.

  A dazed Gregory sits propped against the wall holding a T-shirt against his face to stanch the blood.

  Austin stands next to him, bare-chested, contemplating the bright red splatter on the pale floor. His hands clench and unclench. His teeth gnaw on his lower lip.

  Mason paces on the other side of the room, attended by Ava.

  The other kids shift their gazes from me to Gregory to Austin to Mason, baffled by what to do next.

  I’m the uninjured adult in the room, so I feel like I should try to take charge of the situation.

  But I’m not sure what to suggest. “Let’s all go home and pretend this never happened,” doesn’t seem like it will fly.

  Of all of them, only Austin appears terrified. His gaze hasn’t left the blood on the floor, not even when Clark marched me into the room.

  Why is he so scared? It’s not like Gregory is mortally wounded. Given the circumstances, it’s unlikely he’d even complain about being punched.

  I try to recall exactly what Austin shouted when Gregory fell. You’ve destroyed everything.

  What has Mason destroyed? These half-siblings had a plan. Trevor was one of their group, but now he’s dead. Could Austin’s fear be related Trevor’s murder? But the others don’t seem afraid, only confused.

  If I had time to sit quietly and ponder these questions, I might come up with a theory, but that’s not happening.

  I have to move cautiously, not dig myself in deeper.

  Get out, then figure out what’s going on. Luckily, I’ve got my tote bag with my keys and phone still with me. Maybe I can find an opportunity to dash through the sliders and out to my car in the driveway.

  Austin raises his eyes from the mess on the floor. When his gaze meets mine, it sends a tremor down my spine. Those aren’t the eyes of a confused, reckless teenager. I see a cold, determined calculation there that unnerves me.

  Before, I was worried. Now, I’m scared.

  “You—get over there next to him.” Austin tilts his head from me to Gregory. Gregory staggers to his feet as I approach him.

  “We need a crowbar, some claw hammers,” Austin continues. “I need two of you to go into old man Finlayson’s garage and find some. Sienna, Clark—go.”

  Sienna, a delicate, feminine girl, tosses her long hair. “Are you crazy? I’m not breaking into someone’s garage.”<
br />
  “A crowbar? For what?” Clark asks.

  Austin looks like an exasperated teacher confronting a dozing slacker. “To pry up those floorboards, moron. We’re going to have to dump the stained boards in the ocean, but the whole floor has to come up, so we can say it was part of the remodeling project.”

  “This is crazy.” Sienna buttons her jean jacket and heads for the sliding door. “I’m outta here.”

  Austin grabs her arm as she passes and yanks her so hard, she plops down on her ass. “You’re not going anywhere until we’re done. We’re all in this together.” He points at the blood. “His blood contains DNA. DNA he shares with all of us. DNA he shared with Trevor. The police cannot find that in this house. How do you not understand that?”

  The third girl steps forward. “I’ll clean it up.”

  “You can’t clean it!” Austin’s voice rises toward hysteria. “The blood has soaked into the wood. The cops can find the traces. Haven’t you ever watched a crime show on TV?”

  He’s right. No amount of scrubbing will get rid of the residual traces that show up with Luminol. Now, a piece of the puzzle clicks into place. This sale to get rid of every item in the house...the tight deadline...the lie about the decorator—it was all about finding a plausible way to scour this house of any trace of DNA linking these kids to one another and to Gregory.

  And to Trevor.

  No wonder Austin is panicked. Obviously, his mother was in on this plan. But does she know he planned one more gathering of the half-siblings in this house?

  A gathering that’s gone horribly off the rails.

  Gregory has finally pulled himself together. He steps forward with his hands outstretched. “Kids, come on. None of this is necessary. I’m not calling the police on you. I need to be on a plane to Nepal two days from now.”

  This makes me suspect Gregory doesn’t know he had one more child.

  A child who was murdered.

  Did it happen in this house? Did one of these kids put his hands around Trevor’s neck and squeeze the life from him?

  Austin whirls around to face his father. “Shut up! This isn’t about you.”

  The boy paces anxiously. The rest of the kids watch him—some nervously, some seeking leadership. Finally, Clark speaks. “All right. I’ll go find the tools. Mason can come with me.”

  Clark puts his hand on his half-brother’s shoulder, but Mason jerks away. “What do you mean it’s not about him? It’s all about him. Gregory has to commit to doing the podcast on sperm donation. That’s what we all agreed to.”

  Gregory’s nose has swollen to a grotesque blob, and he has dried blood caked around his nostrils and chin. Nevertheless, he’s regained some of his usual confidence. “I am not doing a podcast on sperm donation. You can put that idea right out of your head. I’m leaving now.” He steps toward the sliding doors.

  Mason lunges for Gregory, Austin blocks him, and in a flash, all three of them are rolling on the floor.

  A noise at the sliding door makes everyone freeze.

  A man stands on the threshold. His massive biceps look about to split the fabric of his polo shirt. A gold chain with a crucifix nestles in the dark mat of chest hair showing at his neckline.

  He points a gun at my chest.

  “Where’s my wife?”

  Chapter 34

  Anthony!

  Sienna screams. Ava clings to Mason’s arm. Gregory, Austin, and Mason untangle themselves.

  Anthony scans the room. “Where’s Donna?”

  “She’s back in Palmyrton. She—”

  “Don’t lie to me! Her car’s in the driveway. Tell her to get her ass down here now.” He keeps the gun pointed at me and moves to the foot of the stairs. “Do-o-n-n-a!”

  Anthony’s arrival has shifted the dynamic in the room. All eyes are on the stranger with the gun.

  But Anthony doesn’t care about the kids or Gregory. He’s only interested in finding his wife via me. In the corner of my field of vision, I notice Sienna edging behind one of the basement’s support columns. It’s the only place in the empty room that provides a little cover. Her hands move inside her jacket pocket. Is she using her phone to dial 9-1-1?

  If she is, I want to keep Anthony’s attention focused elsewhere. “I borrowed Donna’s car. She went back to Palmyrton in the van,” I explain.

  “Liar! She can’t drive that big van. She told me it’s too much for her.” Again, he bellows up the stairs. “D-o-n-n-a!”

  “Go on up and look for her,” I encourage him.

  He waves the gun at me. “Fine. You lead the way.”

  Shit! That’s not what I want. “I’ll call Donna. I’ll put her on speakerphone and ask her if she made it home okay.”

  “Don’t touch your phone! I’ll blow your head off!”

  If Sienna managed to get an open line to 9-1-1, I sure hope they heard that. “Donna spent the day working here at the Gardners’ house,” I say loud and clear. “Then she went back to Palmyrton.”

  Anthony’s eyes grow wide with fury. “She’s with that jig who works for you!” He grabs my arm and drags me toward the sliding door. “You’re coming with me. You’re taking me to where those two are holed up together.”

  There’s no way I’m getting in a car and driving anywhere with Anthony Frascatelli. Sean has lectured me many times: if someone tries to carjack you, your best chance of survival is to run even if they’re pointing a gun at you. Because their intention is not to murder you on the spot; it’s to get what they want from you, and then dispose of you.

  “Okay,” I say. “But it’s a long drive. I have to use the bathroom before we leave. There’s one out here beside the pool.”

  He jerks me toward the driveway, not the poolside cabana. “Too bad. Hold your water.”

  “I have my period. I have to change my tampon. You don’t want me to ruin your upholstery, do you?”

  Anthony wrinkles his nose in disgust and changes direction. I’ve guessed correctly that he’s a man who highly values the condition of his car. “Get what you need outta your bag and leave it with me when you go in there.”

  For once, I’m very glad I’m not pregnant because I do indeed have tampons in my bag. I take one out and leave the bag at Anthony’s feet as he paces beside the pool. Inside the spacious cabana, I start the water running, then head for the window that faces the ocean. Like everything in Brielle’s house, it’s a generous size. I slide it open, climb out, and run toward the ocean, remembering to zig-zag back and forth to make myself a hard target to hit. My feet barely make a sound on the soft sand. By the time Anthony starts shouting for me, I’m halfway to Elmo’s.

  Up on the road, I hear the howl of sirens.

  Chapter 35

  The hours after the police arrive at 43 Dune Vista Drive pass in a blur of activity.

  By the time I turn around and go back to the house, Anthony has screeched off in his Caddy, but the state police soon pull him over on the Parkway.

  Some of the kids have scattered, but Austin knows running is pointless, so he sits on the stairs refusing to talk while he waits for his parents’ lawyer to arrive.

  Sienna maintains she’s done nothing wrong and stands outside talking to two cops.

  Gregory walks a fine line between cooperating and stonewalling. He requests medical attention for his nose, which, I presume, will buy him some time to talk to Brielle and try to find a way to tell his story that’s not too damaging.

  And I, as usual, find myself with lots of explaining to do.

  The local police have contacted Detective Croft. I have just enough time to call Sean and Ty before I join Croft for a talk in his car.

  “Tell me everything that happened from the time I left here this morning,” he says.

  Now that I’m sure someone in the circle of half-siblings murdered poor Trevor, I’m eager to unload everything I know on the police. So I present a recap of the final hours of the sale, my departure and return, my eavesdropping on the kids and Gregory, and fina
lly, the significance of Anthony’s arrival.

  Naturally, it’s what I learned from eavesdropping that interests him the most.

  “So you’re telling me that all those kids are biological half-siblings and Gregory Halpern fathered them all through sperm donation.”

  “Yes, and Trevor Finlayson was also one of them.”

  “How do you know that?”

  “When I was setting up the sale, I found an envelope from a company called AG Solutions pushed under the mattress in Austin’s room. It had a list of names written on the back. Trevor was one of them. So were Mason, Sienna, Clark, Ava and a couple other kids who were here tonight. The night after I found the envelope, Austin came to the house in the middle of the night to get it back.”

  “You talked to him about it?”

  “No. I heard him walking around, and after he left, the envelope was gone. I never looked inside the envelope—I didn’t realize what kind of company AG Solutions was at the time. Recently, I learned that Austin did a summer internship with a geneticist. So I think he must’ve decided to send off his own DNA for testing and persuaded a couple school friends to do the same just out of curiosity. Needless to say, he was stunned to learn he had half-siblings right in his own school.”

  Croft writes furiously in his notebook. “We’ll have to compare Trevor’s DNA with Gregory’s, but it sounds like you’re right. But how did Austin get all those kids to test their DNA? And how did he figure out Gregory Halpern was his father?”

  “I suspect he persuaded only a couple to participate in his experiment. But as soon as Austin realized he had any half-siblings, he asked his mother about it. And she must’ve told him the truth: she couldn’t conceive with her husband, so she turned to sperm donation without telling her husband.”

  Croft scratches his head. “So she told Austin that Gregory was his father?”

  “No. She told her son she used an anonymous donor, not sperm from her brilliant friend. What Brielle didn’t realize at the time was that Gregory kept making sperm donations for payment. And the clinic unethically allowed over one hundred couples in New Jersey to use the same sperm.”