I am just about to ask her what any of those cars have to do with Big Boy and senior citizens when I see Bonnie Blackstone leaving the restaurant. “What is she doing here?”
Cassie notices her. “Maybe because she’s old, and this is where old people go to eat.”
“She’s fifty-five. That’s not that old.”
“Old enough.”
Cassie goes to get out of the car, but I hold her back. “Stay here for a sec.”
It’s too much to see Bonnie Blackstone, and I especially don’t want to talk to her. I can barely contain the grief I feel over Barbara. God knows what Bonnie is enduring right now. Cassie seems to understand because she doesn’t fight me over it. Unfortunately, Gran and George are already out of the car and notice us still in ours.
“Girls?” Gran calls. “What are you doing sitting in the car? Let’s get some dinner.”
Bonnie Blackstone stopped right outside the restaurant door to rummage through her purse. As I step out of the car and shut the door, I feel her gaze before I even make eye contact.
The emotion on her face is conflicted. “Ginnie,” she says though she doesn’t appear too happy when the words leave her mouth.
I wave and hope I can go into the restaurant without any more of a conversation.
“Mitch told me.”
Now I stop.
“Told you what?” Gran asks.
“It’s not true,” Bonnie directs the comment to me. “The more I thought about it, the more it didn’t make sense.”
“What are you talking about?” Gran asks again.
But I know. “It’s the only way any of it makes sense,” I say.
Bonnie shakes her head. “I’m her twin, remember? After I met with you and Mitch at the library, I couldn’t stop thinking about it. I’ve even started researching again. But there’s nothing. No evidence she was pregnant. And she wasn’t pregnant when she vanished. I’m sure of it.”
“All right,” Gran says, clearly annoyed now that she knows what the conversation’s about. “That’s enough. We’re going to get dinner.”
“It’s probably best you leave this alone. My heart can’t take much more.” She presses her hand to her chest, and her face barely contains her emotions.
“Of course they’ll leave you alone.” Gran barely acknowledges Bonnie. She’s motioning for us to follow her. “You heard the lady. Let’s respect her privacy.”
“If I may,” I hesitate because I’m trying to best word it. “May I stop over after dinner? I have questions, but I won’t stay long. I promise."
“That’s not a good idea,” Bonnie says quickly. “You can ask Mitch, and he can relay them to me.” She gives Gran a pointed look, then turns and leaves in a huff.
“Can’t you girls leave well enough alone? She asked for privacy."
George has been holding the door open the entire duration of the conversation, and now Gran has walked into the restaurant, talking quietly with him.
“We’ll talk to Mitch after dinner.” Cassie shakes her head.
“Do you think she’s hiding something?”
“The ghost—Barbara Blackstone—all but told you that you were connected to her,” Cassie says before we walk into the restaurant.
What Cassie says is true, which means one thing. For whatever reason, Bonnie Blackstone is flat-out lying to me.
25
“You seem to be thinking hard,” George says.
I stop ripping the napkin to shreds and glance up. “Sorry. I’m not the best company at the moment.”
Dinner at Big Boy hadn’t been too shabby. And for all of Cassie’s griping, she ate her burger and fries like a champ. She and Gran left for the restroom, leaving me with George.
“There is just too much information. My head feels like it’s about to explode.” I bite my lip, shocked I said it out loud.
“Your grandmother told me about you finding the body. It’s a lot to deal with. I should know, I used to be the sheriff.”
That is enough to get my full attention. “Really?”
“Yes. I retired about five years ago.”
“So, you knew…Barbara?”
He nods. “I was one of the cops who searched for her when she was reported missing. That was a sad day for our entire Pigeon Forest area. The Blackstones took it very hard, especially Bonnie, but the worst one was Mitchell.”
“Mitch? You’re not talking about Bonnie’s son, are you?”
George gave a half-chuckle. “No, no, of course not. I’m talking about Mitchell Hunt. He was Barbara’s boyfriend when it happened. I believe he had already asked her father for her hand in marriage.”
“That’s what I heard, too. Do you know anything about his death?”
George sits back surprised. “No, I didn’t know he passed on.”
“I guess he got drunk and got hit by a car. It was a while back.”
“That can’t be right. Mitch was a recovering alcoholic, but he had been sober for at least ten years. How long ago did you say it happened?”
“Oh, I’m not sure. Mitch told me. The other Mitch. Bonnie’s son.”
George nods. “That’s odd. I just saw him about a month or so ago. I have friends who live about ten miles out of town, and he was putting on a new roof for them. I teased him about moving back to the area, and he said, ‘No way. I’m only traveling this far because I owe Joe Longhorne a favor.’ He didn’t show any signs of the bottle then.”
Gran and Cassie return. “Are you ready?” Cassie asks me.
I’m momentarily speechless. Could this man who might very well be my grandfather, be alive? I don’t think Mitch would purposefully lie to me, so who’s right?
“Too much information,” I say again.
“What I was going to say is to not worry about all this information,” George says. His eyes are kind, and his smile is genuine. “This is summertime. Go, have fun. Let the police deal with all of it.”
“Those are wise words indeed,” Gran agrees.
Cassie’s pulling on my arm.
“So, I’m planning a surprise birthday party for your father tomorrow night,” Gran says to me. “I’ll make a few phone calls, but I will need you two to be the errand girls and pick up the groceries and help with the cleaning.”
“Yes, Grandma,” Cassie says. Her polite façade had taken all of about two minutes to crumble once we were inside the restaurant. Now she rolls her eyes. “We will be back in a little bit.”
“Here’s the grocery list?”
I place the folded up paper into my purse.
“And Ginnie, don’t forget to get him a birthday present.”
I want to make a snide comment that Laura is birthday present enough, but I keep my snarky comment to myself.
As soon as we are out of earshot, Cassie asks, “So? Are you going to tell me what you and George were talking about?”
“He knows Mitchell Hunt. That’s Barbara’s fiancé. He doesn’t know anything about his death.”
We get into the car and Cassie starts it up. She shakes her head as she backs out. “Mitch wouldn’t lie.”
“I’m not saying that, but he could be misinformed.”
“Or you could be misinformed.”
“George used to be the sheriff. He doesn’t have any ulterior motives for telling me he just saw Mitch—that’s the old Mitch—about a month ago.”
“Unless Grandma asked him to.”
“Wait a second, you told me back at the house that I should stop supposing about Gran. That she wouldn’t or couldn’t lie to us.”
“And yet how surprised we were to meet George.”
“It’s not that big a deal she has a beau. If he makes her happy.”
“A beau…Who says that anymore?”
“Me. Everyone. I don’t know. Why are you hostile all of a sudden?”
“Because it’s not Mitch. He’s not a bad guy. You already took Isaac. You’re not taking Mitch…off to jail!”
“I’m not taking Mitch anywhere! F
or bloody sake, the guy might be my cousin or uncle or something.”
Cassie takes a deep breath. “Sorry, I kind of like him, that’s all. And I don’t know what to believe anymore. To top it all off seeing Grandma with another man other than Grandpa felt weird.”
I think of Dad with Laura and completely understand. “No worries. Let’s see if what George says is true. Let me have your phone.”
Cassie hands it to me. “What are you going to do with it?”
“You have GPS on it, right? Now that I know the guy’s full name, I’m going to see if he’s still around.”
“Good idea,” Cassie says excitedly.
“What are some towns outside of Pigeon Forest? George said he lived away from here.”
She lists off a couple of towns, and I get to work. “Wow,” I say after a few minutes. “There are a lot of Mitchell Hunts.”
“Forget GPS. Try the internet first. It’ll give you ages of the names. We need a Mitchell Hunt who is between 55 and 60.”
“And I need a pen and paper.” I scrounge around until I find the back of an envelope and a broken pencil at the bottom of my purse.
“Well?”
“Shh!” I scroll down on the screen and begin to write.
“You better tell me something,” Cassie warns.
“There are seven Mitchell Hunts in the surrounding areas that fit the age group.”
“Wow,” she mutters. “Popular name.”
I start dialing.
“You’re calling them now?”
“How else are we supposed…Hello? Yes, this is Ginnie Paxton from the… Pigeon Forest newspaper…”
I glance over at Cassie and shrug. She’s giggling with her hand covering her mouth.
“I’m calling to investigate the disappearance of Barbara Blackstone. Your name was given. Were you a former acquaintance? Okay, thank you.”
“No luck?”
“Nope. On to number two.”
“I like your disguise as a newspaper reporter,” she whispers because I’m already on the phone.
On the fifth call, I hit jackpot.
“What do you want to know?” The voice is deep and gruff, and interestingly enough seems filled with grief.
I have to think. I didn’t know I would get this far. How do I come out and ask if Barbara was pregnant?
“Were you engaged to be married?”
He pauses. I hear his breathing. “Yes. I had asked for her hand. I heard her body was discovered. Do you know if any type of memorial service is planned?”
Cassie’s waving her hand at me. “Ask him if he got drunk and got hit by a car.”
“Hello?” he asks. “Did we get disconnected?”
“No, no, I’m here.” I scramble to think about what we were talking about, but Cassie keeps distracting me. She’s currently miming drinking from a bottle then acting all loopy. “Um, we were under the understanding that you had a bit too much to drink and were hit by a car. I take it you’re okay now?”
Cassie gives me another thumbs-up sign seemingly pleased I asked the question.
“Who are you?” he demands. That snaps me back to the phone conversation.
“I’m from the…newspaper…?”
“Are you the one who charged after me? I swear to God, if you think you can scare me, think again. I’m alive and kicking, and if you come near me, I’ll put a bullet through your heart!” I hear the click and the dial tone.
I stare at the phone in shock.
“What happened?” Cassie asks.
“I must have said something wrong. He wigged out on me.”
“You asked him about getting drunk and being hit by a car.”
“He threatened to shoot me if I come near him. Something about charging after him and scaring him and next time I’m dead.”
“He’s obviously not referring to you. Someone charged after him though?”
“That’s what he seems to think. Like maybe someone charged after him in that car. On purpose.”
Cassie nods. “Exactly. You’re on to something. He feels that someone hit him on purpose.”
“He assumed it was me.”
“Maybe because no one else knows.”
Cassie slows the car down, and we stare at each other as each of us appraises the situation now in a different light.
“Ginnie?”
“Yes?”
“I don’t know what to believe anymore.”
“That’s why we need to go and see this Mitchell Hunt. Right away.”
“What about the grocery list and birthday present?”
“We’ll get to it.”
“After we visit Mr. Hunt?”
“Exactly.”
“Type in his address in the GPS.”
I do so, then hold up the phone for her to see the coordinates. We make eye contact again, and I give a slight nod, completely in sync.
“Looks like we’re going on a little trip,” Cassie says, as she turns the car around.
“Let’s hope he’s out of bullets.”
26
Over an hour later, Cassie turns onto what seems like the umpteenth two-track; this one full of potholes and mud puddles nearly the size of small ponds.
“Are you sure the GPS is talking about this road?”
“This is the only road to turn left on,” I answer, looking in all directions to verify my response.
“And I thought Grandma lived in the boonies.”
“It’s almost like he’s hiding,” I say more to myself.
“I think you’re right.”
“Let’s hope we find it soon because my cell phone lost signal about an hour ago, and yours has only one bar.”
We bounce and jiggle with the two-track and more than once I pray that we don’t get stuck in any of the mammoth mud holes.
“It’s saying we’ve arrived at our destination.” I look at the GPS again because it has to be wrong.
“There’s nothing here,” Cassie says what I’m thinking.
The two-track keeps going along with thick forest on both sides. Up ahead the two-track narrows. “Go to where it narrows.”
Cassie inches the car along until we reach the narrow path. My gaze follows the path. It’s then I notice the path diverges. “There’s a walking path that veers off to the right,” I say and get out of the car. Once Cassie’s out, we venture on foot.
“This is creepy, Ginnie,” she whispers.
And she’s right. I’ve been trying not to think about that. We’ve been driving in the middle of this dense forest for several miles with nothing to assist us should something happen. But something pushes me to keep going. I know we’re close. It’s weird because it’s like I sense a nearness to whatever or whomever it is I’m looking for. Still, Cassie seems to wait for a reply, so I say, “If we can handle ghostly encounters, we can handle creepy woods.”
“Creepy woods that very possibly hide an angry man with a gun. A ghost can’t shoot us.”
The woods have no sounds of any kind of human life. There’s a soft breeze blowing, rustling the trees, and I hear the insects whirring in different locations. Birds chirp happily. All in all, it’s lovely. Other than the hair that stands on end at my neck and the chill that shoots up my spine with every snap of a twig, of course.
“Holy crap!” Cassie shoves herself next to me, nearly making me jump out of my skin. “A snake!”
Now she has my attention. I follow the direction of where her finger points. Then sigh. “It’s just a gardener snake. Don’t alarm yourself.”
“You sure?”
“Positive.”
We walk further, but Cassie still stays close by me.
“What happened to the girl who storms into the woods in the middle of the night with no flashlight?”
“That was different. I was acting on emotion and not thinking clearly.”
“But you weren’t freaked out at all by the ghost. You were the one who told me to touch her hand.”
“Shh! Can we please not t
alk about ghosts here? Besides, it’s not ghosts I’m worried about. It’s psycho killers lurking behind trees.”
“There are no psycho kill—”
“Don’t move.” The gun barrel snaps in place, and I feel the tip of it against my head.
“What were you saying?” Cassie whimpers.
“I warned you,” the man is saying. “Give me a good reason why I shouldn’t shoot you right here.”
Cassie’s whimpering all-out and clinging to me. So, I say the first thing that pops into my head. “You might be my grandfather.”
The gun barrel is no longer pushing against my head. I swallow down some nerve and turn in his direction.
Mitchell Hunt is tall and lean with dark hair, dark skin, and piercing eyes. The eyes of my father. The connection stirs something inside of me. He still watches me warily, but I know he senses it, too.
“Forty years ago, you loved a girl. I’m just trying to find out what happened.”
“Why?”
“Because she wants me to.”
“I don’t have time for childish games,” he says, but this time there is no meanness in his words.
“It’s true.” This time Cassie speaks up. “I was with Ginnie when she saw the ghost.”
Mitchell Hunt does not take his eyes off mine. “There’s no such thing as ghosts.”
He reminds me so much of Dad that it’s making me a wreck.
He sighs and lowers his gun. “Where’d you say you were from again? The Pigeon Forest newspaper?”
I nod.
“Well, we know that’s not the case.”
I nod again.
“Where are you really from? Your accent gives you away.”
“London, but my dad’s from here. Pigeon Forest. His mother is Rose Paxton.”
“Yeah, I know the Paxton’s. They bought up a bunch of my family’s land. For a while there, they were the only white folks in Pigeon Forest. Now, it’s nothing but white folks, and all the Indians have disappeared. My brother’s mad about it.”
“Because of the curse?” Cassie asks.
“Curse?” Mitchell Hunt gives a slight, humorless laugh. “So, let me guess. You think that Barbie disappeared because of the curse.” He said it like a statement and not a question.
Lake of Secrets Page 21