“Yet you supported his plan, knowing the kind of man he was.”
“Ever hear of the old adage, ‘keep your friends close and your enemies closer?’ The only way I could guarantee Stonehaven wouldn’t ruin Main Street was to get involved. That’s what I did.”
Emily felt a sense of relief. Johnny’s explanation made perfect sense.
“What about now that he’s dead?”
“A good question. I suspect his plan died with him. He was careful not to divulge all the details. In all likelihood, the schoolhouse will go back on the market. Life will go back to the way it was, at least until Poppy comes up with another developer for the property.”
“So you don’t believe there’s anything suspicious about Stonehaven’s death?”
“Suspicious? Nigel Watters told me the police are treating it like an accidental overdose.”
“The gospel according to Nigel.” Emily grinned, then immediately sobered up. “Look, I won’t lie and say I liked Stonehaven. I didn’t. But I didn’t wish him dead, and I can’t buy his death as a suicide or accidental overdose. Neither scenario fits with the man I knew.”
“What are you suggesting?”
“I think Stonehaven was murdered, and his death might be related to the deaths of Carter and February.”
Johnny folded his arms in front of his chest. “You think there were three murders?”
“I’ve been going over everything in my head, all the little things I’ve seen and heard, wondering if any of it meant anything. Then last night I remembered something.”
“Which was?”
“The day Carter Dixon died at the Sunrise Café, a vase of yellow roses was in the bay window.”
“Yellow roses. Okay, I’ll take your word for it.”
“I wondered who the roses came from, whether they had any significance, or whether they were meant to match the décor.”
“Wow. Investigating roses. You are inquisitive.”
Was that a note of thinly veiled hostility in Johnny’s voice? Or had she just managed to hurt his feelings? Emily chose to ignore the faint trace of unease creeping into her gut. Surely the entire town couldn’t be wrong about Johnny Porter. He was good people, Arabella had assured her, and Arabella was a reliable judge of character. Wasn’t she?
“What can I say, Johnny? It’s a side effect of the job. Anyway, I spoke to Gloria earlier today. It seems the roses were sent to February, with a note that said, ‘To a Prosperous New Beginning.’ I thought you might have sent them.”
“Did you now?” Johnny’s handsome face had taken on an unbecoming look, a cross between a smirk and a scowl. “You make it sound as if something sinister was behind it. So what if I sent yellow roses to February? The poor kid told me she was trying to start over, get a brighter financial future. I thought they’d make her day. Like I hoped the lavender roses might have made your day. Obviously, I misread at least one situation.”
“I apologize if I offended you. I’m just trying to make sense of things.”
The scowly-smirk faded ever so slightly. “Fair enough. I suppose there’s no stopping the journalist in you, even when it comes to roses. But let’s suppose your triple murder theory is true, Emily. Suppose there’s some sort of serial killer lurking out there. Who had the means, opportunity, and motive to do it? And where’s your proof?”
“I may not have proof—yet. But I believe Stonehaven’s toast at The Hanged Man’s Noose was directed to someone at the bar that night.”
“But who? There were any number of people at the bar that evening.”
“True enough, but not all of them knew Stonehaven in a past life.” Emily swallowed hard. “I know all about your brother, Jake, all about Camp Miakoda. Levon told me about it, filled me in on the pyramid scheme. He said Neighbors Helping Neighbors smacked of more of the same. I think Stonehaven planned to pull the same stunt all over again. Moreover, I think you knew it and decided to stop him. Everyone always says you’ll do anything for Main Street.”
She didn’t know what to expect. Would Johnny would break down and confess everything to her? Or would he get angry, but vehemently deny any involvement?
“Come take a ride with me to someplace near Miakoda Fall,” he said, a trace of tears in his beseeching black eyes. I need to share something with you. Something important. I won’t take more than a couple of hours. In fact, we’d be back by noon if we left right away.
Emily was a sucker for tears. And she had to admit to being curious. Could the someplace near Miakoda Falls be Camp Miakoda? Despite her best instincts, she’d acquiesced—but not before sending a text to Arabella while Johnny went to the back to get his jacket.
“Off to MF with JP. Stay tuned.”
As if a cryptic message was going to help her.
And now here she was, sitting next to a silent and sullen Johnny in the front seat of his black SUV, with no way to get a reply, and no way to get another message out there. Because somewhere along the road heading towards Miakoda Falls they’d lost cell reception. Not so much as a single, solitary bar, no matter how many times she tried.
Every instinct told her this wasn’t going to end well.
43
Arabella checked her phone for the third time in as many minutes. “Emily’s late.” She’d been waiting with Levon at The Hanged Man’s Noose since one o’clock, the prearranged time to meet for lunch and compare notes. Thirty minutes had passed since then.
“Everyone’s late now and again,” Levon said.
“Everyone might be, but not Emily. She’s an absolute stickler for punctuality, claims it comes from living life eternally on a deadline.” Arabella rechecked her messages. Nothing since Off to MF with JP. Stay tuned. “MF. That must be Miakoda Falls.”
“That would be my guess.”
“Why Miakoda Falls?”
“You’ve got me there. What do you suggest we do?”
“How should the hell should I know?” Arabella knew she was getting cranky. She always got cranky when she was worried. Especially when there were no cookies around. Why didn’t Betsy sell cookies?
“Maybe you should text Emily back, tell her we’re waiting.”
“You think I haven’t thought of that? I’ve tried texting her. No reply. I’ve tried calling her. Goes straight to voice mail. I’m seriously concerned. What if Emily is in danger?”
“I think you’re overreacting. The text message suggests she went with him voluntarily. You know how patchy cell reception is once you get out of town.” Levon took a sip of his beer.
“You might be right, but the idea of Johnny taking her somewhere outside of cellular range isn’t exactly comforting. I feel as if we should be doing something more than sitting around here waiting.”
“You could fill me in on what Poppy told you yesterday. There might be some clue in that.”
Arabella leaned across the booth and hugged Levon. “You’re a genius,” she said, tossing a ten-dollar bill on the table. “C’mon, we have to go. I’ll drive, you navigate.” She caught his look. “You’ve had half a beer. I’ve had club soda.”
“All right, already. But where are we going?”
“To save Emily, of course.”
“But we don’t know where they went. Miakoda Falls might be a small town, but it’s not that small.”
“We’re not going to Miakoda Falls. We’re going to Camp Miakoda.”
“Camp Miakoda?”
“Yes, that’s what Poppy told me. She said Stonehaven faced another bidder for Camp Miakoda.”
“Johnny Porter?”
“Johnny Porter.”
Levon tossed his keys over to Arabella, his face suddenly pale. “Let’s go.”
On the way to Camp Miakoda, Levon told Arabella everyone thought Garry had hidden the eight thousand dollars from the pyramid scheme, along with a list of the investors. Once the Camp closed down, there’d been no way to access the building without being seen by security cameras.
“The camp might have been a fa
iled experiment, but no one in charge was about to let the place get trashed,” Levon said. “Given the previous clientele, that would have been a very real possibility. Not to mention an empty building off the beaten path would have attracted vagrants and college kids wanting to party hardy.”
“So when the property came on the market, Stonehaven and Johnny saw their chance.”
“Exactly. The money wasn’t enough to make a difference to either of the at this point in their lives, certainly not enough for them to want to invest in an old boot camp for young offenders, but the list of names, however, that would be pure gold.”
“Stonehaven didn’t want that list to get into the wrong hands,” Arabella said. “But why? Surely after all these years, no one was going to prosecute them.”
“Unless one of the people on that list was responsible for Jake’s death, which is what Johnny always believed.”
“It must have gutted him to lose the place to Stonehaven. And then to have him come back a couple of years later and flaunt his pyramid scheme in front of Johnny’s friends and business associates.” Arabella shook her head. “Garrett Stonehaven was not a very nice man.”
They debated back and forth about calling the police, Arabella for it, and Levon against.
“You were the one who wanted to leave things up to the police,” Arabella said. Her hands clenched the steering wheel, knuckles white. She glanced at the speedometer, knew she was driving far too fast for the curvy County Road. She slowed down a bit.
“What I said was, let the police do their job. And if you and Emily had bothered to listen, we wouldn’t be in this predicament right now.” Levon rested his hand on her thigh for a brief moment. “Look, I know you’re worried. So am I. But what are we supposed to tell the police? ‘Hello, we think our friend may have been taken somewhere against her will by Johnny Porter, the much loved chairman of the Main Street Merchants’ Association. We don’t know where they might have gone, but we think it might be an old boot camp called Camp Miakoda. You see, there was this pyramid scheme and…’”
“It does sound a bit stupid put like that.” Arabella sped up again. “How much further?”
“Another ten minutes, max—if we can arrive alive. Ease up on the gas pedal a bit, okay?”
The warning came too late. Before Arabella had a chance to slow down to something resembling the speed limit, she saw flashing lights in her rearview mirror. “It’s an omen,” she said, pulling over and rolling down her window.
“Don’t even think about it, Arabella. You’ll sound like a nutcase. Or someone who’s trying to get out of a ticket.”
A burly police officer, padded with winter gear and bulletproof vest, made his way to the driver’s door. “License and registration.”
“We think our friend has been abducted,” Arabella said, pulling her wallet out of her purse. “Taken against her will to Camp Miakoda.”
“Uh huh. License and registration.”
Levon handed her the registration and shot her a warning look. Arabella pulled her license out of her wallet. She gave both to the officer, ignored Levon, and tried again. “Officer, I realize I was driving over the speed limit, but we’re worried about our friend, Emily…” Her voice trailed off as she watched him make his way back to the cruiser.
“Lying nutcase, that’s what he’s thinking,” Levon said. “Probably thinks Camp Miakoda is something out of a computer game.”
The ticket cost them a delay of ten minutes and a fine for Arabella, though thankfully she hadn’t been dinged with demerit points. It had also cost her an unwelcome admission. Levon had been right.
“Okay, so I should have slowed down, the officer thought I was trying to get out of the ticket, and he probably thought I was a nutcase with an overactive imagination.”
Levon grinned. “I wish I had a tape recorder. Could that be Arabella Carpenter admitting she was wrong?”
“Don’t push it. Are we almost there?”
“We turn left on Concession 8, less than a mile up the road, and then we continue on for about five miles, give or take. You’ll see a row of jack pines. Keep your eyes peeled. There’s a hidden driveway about ten trees in.”
Arabella did as she was told, this time careful to stay within the speed limit. When she the row of jack pines, she slowed down some more until she spotted the driveway. She pulled in and kept driving, although by now they were down to crawl. The road had been rutted by time; by now not much more than a dirt path overgrown by years of neglect. About a half a mile in there was a ten-foot high chain-link fence, a row of rusted barbed wire laced through the top. A hole had been cut out of the fence’s gate, large enough for a person to climb through, but nowhere big enough for a vehicle.
“We’ll have to get out at the fence,” Arabella said, winding her way through the final twist and turn. Fear rose in her throat, and she tried to swallow the bitter bile back down. Because a black SUV was already parked there. And it had a vanity plate that read MAIN*STRT.
“We’re in the right place,” Arabella said. “The black SUV is Johnny’s. I recognize the Main Street license plate.”
“You were right. We need to call the police.”
“Good to know you’re starting to see things my way.” Arabella pulled her phone out of her purse and looked forlornly at the unresponsive screen. “No bars. What do we do now? Go back to County Road 37 where we’re likely to get reception?”
Levon shook his head. “That will cost us at least another ten minutes each way. By the time the police arrive, if they arrive, who knows what could have gone down? We have no choice. We have to go in. But we have to go about it quietly. We might be able to gain the upper hand if we have the element of surprise on our side.”
The element of surprise. Suddenly the game of amateur detective wasn’t quite so much fun. The bile rose in her throat again. “Okay,” she said. “Okay.”
Arabella and Levon trudged wordlessly along the path. There was evidence of footsteps ahead of them.
“How much further?” Arabella whispered, weary of the silence. They’d been walking for fifteen minutes. Her legs ached and her feet were cold. Her riding boots might have made a nice fashion statement, but they had never been made for serious winter walking. Who was she kidding? It wasn’t only the boots. She hadn’t been made for serious winter walking.
“Not too much,” Levon whispered back. “We’ll come to the main building beyond the next clearing. Red brick with leaded glass windows. Beyond that’s the water.” He turned to Arabella and gave her a quick, wordless hug.
Arabella felt herself melt into the familiar comfort of his arms, breathed in the dusty denim of his jacket, forced herself to pull away. There would be time enough to sort out her feelings later.
“Let’s go find Emily.”
44
Emily had just about convinced herself Johnny’s that ongoing silence was nothing more than a man lost in his own thoughts, although she had to admit that the lack of cell reception was disconcerting. She wasn’t one of those people tied to their phones as if it was an oxygen tank, but she didn’t like to go unplugged, either. It wasn’t until they arrived at their destination, until she saw the chain-link fence with the seriously barbed wire top—a hole cut out of the double-padlocked gate—that she figured she might be in trouble.
“Where are we?” Her voice had a hollow ring to it, the voice of someone terrified to speak. She didn’t care for the sound.
Johnny looked over at her, then looked away towards the direction of the fence a strange expression on his face. After what seemed like an eternity, he got out of the SUV, walked over to the passenger side, and opened the door.
Finally, he spoke. His words held no comfort.
“Welcome to Camp Miakoda.”
The way into the Camp was a mix of overgrown shrubs, tree roots, and small rocks. The space felt claustrophobic, as if the road had tried to choke out any evidence of its being there. Patches of ice and snow blanketed the shaded trail, making travel
both tricky and treacherous.
Despite all of that, Emily was beginning to feel guardedly optimistic. She’d slipped and fallen about ten minutes along, twisting her left ankle. For the moment, at least, it was causing nothing more than mild discomfort, but she suspected adrenaline and endorphins had a lot to do with suppressing any pain. Johnny had picked her off the ground, and since then he’d held onto her hand, lending stronger support when the terrain went from rough to rugged. He’d also become a little more talkative.
“I tried to buy this place three years ago,” Johnny said after they’d been walking, hand in hand, for a few minutes. “Stonehaven had deeper pockets.”
So Levon’s theory had been right. “You’re saying this land is…was owned by Garrett Stonehaven?”
“I don’t think he necessarily wanted to own it. He just didn’t want me to own it.”
“Why would you want to own it? I wouldn’t think this place would have happy memories for you after what happened to Jake.”
“You wouldn’t think so, would you? But the reality is I feel closest to him when I come here.” He stopped and took both her hands in his, his jet black eyes wide and serious. “Look, Emily, no matter what happens, I want you to know something. I did have feelings for you. It wasn’t an act.”
Another glimmer of hope. “And now?”
He didn’t answer, just started walking again, pulling her along. Maybe he was holding her hand so she wouldn’t run away. But that was ridiculous. Where would she run to with a bum ankle? And why would she have to?
After all, Johnny had brought her lavender roses. That had to count for something.
They reached another fence, this one with a gatehouse and a gate, the kind where a button would be pushed by a gatekeeper to raise the arm up and let a vehicle go through. Emily supposed twenty years ago the road would have been drivable, at least in the summer.
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