“Open your eyes,” he said in a voice I didn’t recognize.
Stunned, I opened them, searching his face, a mere breath from my own.
“Janie, when I kiss you . . . and make no mistake, I will kiss you. It won’t be something either of us will need to regret. I’ve never met anyone who makes me feel this alive. You have to know I love you . . . that I want to marry you. But until we’re certain that you’re free . . . I can’t . . . I won’t put either of us through that. You understand?”
I understood. I didn’t like it, but I understood. Shame and desire wrestled in me, forcing me to swallow back tears. My heart swelled with new respect and trust for him. Had I not already lost my heart, I would have fallen in love anew. Here we were alone, in the middle of the woods, with no one to see but God. He proved he could be trusted. “Aiden, I love you, too . . . I’m so sorry . . . I—”
“Sh-h-h, no apologies.”
“But I have to say this, Aiden, I love you. I don’t have many memories, but everything within me tells me that I’ve never loved anyone the way I love you. Please believe that.”
Behind us, the cabin door slammed with a force that made us both to jump.
My already racing heart nearly leaped out my mouth. “What was that?”
Aiden took a breath, obviously startled as well, and stepped back. “Don’t worry, probably the wind.”
But a scraping outside denied that. Something was being shoved under the latch. Aiden crossed the room in three strides, pushing against the door. “What the—” using a word I’d never heard him use before. “Hey,” he shouted, banging his fist against the wood. “What do you think you’re doing?”
I could make out movement from beneath the door. A sloshing sound of liquid, followed by a sickening scent of gasoline. I’d know that odor anywhere. “Aiden!” I ran to the door to help him push . . . something was blocking it. “It’s jammed!”
“I’ll break it down. Stand back. He threw a protective arm to push me out the way. But stopped when he saw smoke coming from the crack underneath.
“Aiden, look out!”
“The cabin’s on fire!” he shouted. “Still think these threats are harmless?” With a frantic glance around the room, he searched for another way out. He spotted the window at the back of the cabin, picked up the chair, and swung it hard, shattering the glass. “Come on!” He stretched his hand out toward me.
As quickly as I could, I scurried to the window, wondering how I was going to get out the small window with my belly.
“I’ll climb out first and help you out from the other side. You can make it.”
He scrambled through the hole, removed his shoe, and knocked out the remaining jagged edges. When I had trouble lifting my leg over the waist-high ledge, he reached through the window, picked me off the ground, and brought me to the other side. “You’re safe. We should get back. This old wood will burn fast.”
I let him lead me a small distance from the flames, coughing from the smoke, and watching the embers rise. Flames licked at the wall where we had stood minutes earlier. I stood, rooted to the spot trying to see through the smoky haze.
“What are you doing? We need to get back to the house and call the police.”
“I’m looking for the person responsible. They couldn’t have gone far.” The way I saw it, Nurse Albrecht was old, she probably didn’t move too fast. That should make her easy to catch.
Chapter 33
Jack’s eyes lingered on Sam much too long. The morning sunlight penetrated the passenger window, highlighting her hair as she scrolled through the apps on her screen. Those fiery red curls and her trim figure were way too distracting. He forced his eyes back to the traffic, passing a Wendy’s and a hardware store on his left. “What was the name of that street again?”
She bent her head and studied the map on her phone. “Thompson. Looks like it’s up a little ways and to the right. Stay on this road four more miles.”
He nodded. “I still can’t believe you found someone who knows something about Jewel’s case.” Jack signaled and edged around a vehicle moving too slowly. “I’m not sure how he’s going to help us if he wasn’t born until after Jewel vanished. He has to be what . . . ninety?”
“Ninety-one,” she corrected. “It wasn’t easy. I started with the investigator who looked into the initial disappearance. I figured he’d more than likely be deceased, and once I confirmed it, I took a long shot and researched any remaining children. That’s how I found William Bishop, Jr. It turns out he not only remembered his father working the case, but reopened it when he made detective in the 50s. And using his father’s old notes, turned it into his life’s work . . . sort of a tribute.”
The girl had done her homework. “But neither of the men solved it. What makes you think we can?”
Sam shrugged. “I don’t. But when I spoke with him on the phone he was eager to discuss it. Maybe he’s looking for company, a chance to relive his past.”
Jack looked at her and smiled. “You’re a softy.” Just one more feather to add to her cap. Not only was she drop-dead gorgeous, she was kind, considerate, and just good people.
She ignored the compliment. “He may not be able to help, but you never know. It can’t hurt. Besides, we have insight. With all the key players still living inside the house. That has to give us an advantage they didn’t have, right?” She glanced at the phone again and pointed. “Hang a right here.”
Jack slowed down and maneuvered the car through the traffic to make the turn. He squinted, searching the unfamiliar street for the retirement home. “Can you help me look for the sign?”
“Sure.”
“What reason did you give as to why we were asking questions?”
“Don’t worry. I didn’t go into a lot of detail with him. I didn’t want a repeat of what happened when we tried to explain the situation to Jeff and Cindy.” Sam rubbed her temples.
“No kidding.” Jack sniffed. “I can’t believe those two. All that proof, and they treated us like we were crazy.”
“They were pretty closed minded about it. We showed them the trunk, the yearbook, and all those letters. They thought we were trying to pull a prank on them. Good thing you laughed it off.”
“I’m still not so sure they bought that, either. They think we’ve both lost it. Sorry I got you into this.”
“Are you serious? My only regret is that I haven’t seen her for myself. I feel as if I know her already from reading all her letters, seeing her things. I’d give anything to meet her. Since that isn’t possible, the next-best thing is finding out what happened to her. Still haven’t gotten a reply from your letter?”
Jack shook his head.
“I wouldn’t worry too much. You found a note from the housekeeper explaining her plan for helping Jewel . . . It takes time. She’s been through so much. As soon as she’s able, I’m sure she’ll try to make contact with you again.”
“So what do we tell Detective Bishop? He’s going to ask why we’re poking around in a case that happened so long ago. Jewel and Hunsdon never had any children that we know of, so the story should have ended with them.”
Sam slid her sunglasses to the top of her head while she considered that matter. “Keep it generic. Just tell him what you told me when you started researching. You came across an article on a missing woman, and you’re curious. It seems reasonable to me.”
“I guess—but you’re not a detective. He’s trained to be suspicious.”
“Oops! There’s the sign, Jack. Autumn Lane Retirement Center—there!”
He stepped on the brake and waved an apology to the minivan behind him as he whipped into the parking lot. He had to circle twice before finding an empty spot. “Busy little place for a Thursday morning,” he remarked, as he looked at the one-story brick building. “Looks well cared for.”
There was an inviting feel to the deep shadows created by the oaks and flowering bushes. The landscaper must love his mulch. Mounds of wood chips overflowed the
many flower beds. Several members of the geriatric set relaxed outside, enjoying the fresh air. “Must be the place. How long did you say William Bishop has been here?”
“Three years, I think he said. He and his wife moved in, but I believe she passed away last year.”
“Children?”
“We didn’t talk about it. He may have mentioned a daughter.”
“Well, let’s see what information he has for us. Ready?” He released his seat belt, slid from behind the wheel, and circled around to Sam’s side. She’d already opened her door when he reached her.
“Oh, sorry.” She winced. “Keep forgetting.”
“My mama always taught me to be a gentleman.” He held out his hand. “Well, come on . . . you’re already halfway out. The least I can do is make sure you don’t twist your ankle when you jump down.”
“Thanks, Jack. Most guys don’t bother anymore.”
“I’m not most guys. Besides, manners never go out of style. You do wait for me to open the door for you when we enter a building,” he teased. “That’s a start.”
They walked up the sidewalk toward the entrance, looked at each other, and laughed as they stepped on the automatic door mat at the same time. The doors opened to a small waiting area. An older woman with short, neatly styled hair and kind brown eyes greeted them. “May I help you?”
“We’re here to see William Bishop.” Sam replied.
“I’ve got this, Carolyn.” A spry, white-haired gentleman with a light green cardigan and gray slacks rushed to greet them. Beneath his arm, he clutched a manila file folder. “You must be Samantha Rose.”
“I am. And this is Jack Vines.”
In one glance, his sharp blue eyes adeptly assessed them, processed, and decided they were acceptable. The cerulean color contrasted with the snowy white brows and jumped from his leathery features.
“Young man.” He extended his fingers and shook Jack’s hand. With a nod and twinkle, he conveyed his approval of Sam. Guess a guy never gets too old to appreciate a beautiful woman.
Jack returned the older man’s strong grip. “Thank you for seeing us, Detective Bishop.”
“Please, no one’s called me that in years. Bill’s fine. I have a little place right through these doors here, if you folks don’t mind sitting outside.”
“Lead the way.” Jack stepped aside, allowing him to pass.
“Mr. Bishop, you forgot your walker.”
“I don’t need that fool thing, Carolyn.” He dismissed the reminder with a wave of his hand, but turned around and retrieved the forgotten item just the same.
“Don’t get old, son. People worry you all day long about things you don’t want in the first place.” He pushed the door open and they stepped out into the courtyard.
Bill led them to a small wooden gazebo and settled himself in one of the four available rockers. The offending walker got shoved to the side. He fumbled in his back pocket for a handkerchief, mopped his face, and shoved it back into his pants.
“This is nice,” Sam remarked, as she gazed around the shady porch.
A large wicker fan spun above them with a slow, lazy motion, stirring up the late morning breeze.
“Would you care for lemonade? I asked one of the ladies to bring some out earlier. Don’t think the ice has melted too much.”
“That would be wonderful, wouldn’t it Jack?”
“I could go for a glass.”
“Make it a round then.” Bill gave Sam a good-natured wink.
Jack leaned against the rocker, appreciating the rapport she’d already established with the salty detective. He was eating out of her hand. She raised the pitcher and filled the three glasses, looking cool and tanned in a light sundress. Bill appeared to enjoy the view as well. He wagered the older man had been quite the charmer in his day.
Sam wasn’t alone collecting admirers. He noticed a number of female residents taking an unusual interest in the senior detective’s activities.
The trio chatted regarding inconsequential things: weather, health, old sitcoms, but he found his eyes drawn to the folder. Bill had shoved it between his leg and the arm of the rocker.
As if reading his mind, the elderly man turned to him. “I’m normally a straight shooter, Jack. You’ll have to forgive me, but it’s been a while since I’ve had company this pretty.” He tilted his head in Sam’s direction. “I apologize for not cutting right to the chase. You want to talk about the Wiltshire case, don’t you?”
Jack smiled, a bit shame-faced he could read him with such ease. “Yes, sir. We’d appreciate anything you could remember.”
“I’d be happy to help out, but I’m curious . . . what do two young people need with information on a century-old missing person’s case?”
Jack and Sam exchanged knowing glances. She angled her head encouraging him to take the lead.
He cleared his throat and shifted in the chair. “You see, Bill, I own the Wiltshire house now. I bought it about a year ago, and I’m restoring it.”
“Ah . . . yeah, that one’s a beaut.”
“Sure hoping it will be when I’m done. But I couldn’t help wondering about the original owners. I found several trunks and things containing articles from that era and decided to do a bit of digging.”
“I see.”
“If you don’t mind me asking, why was the case so interesting to you, Mr. Bishop?” Sam inched closer. “Okay if I take notes?”
“Just Bill, little missy, and feel free.” He laced his hands in his lap, pursing his lips before he began. “It all started with my father . . . as I said on the phone. But when I looked at the facts of the case . . . something about that little gal haunted me. Real pretty thing she was. Got me right here.” He tapped a long, tapered finger over his heart.
“You mean Jewel?”
“Yes, yes . . . Jewel Wiltshire. My wife was always jealous of her.” He chuckled and sat back, seeming to relive a memory they weren’t privy to. “The misses, she used to accuse me of being in love with her. But the fact of the matter is that poor girl disappeared without a trace. A real tragedy. I used to keep a picture of her on my wall as a reminder. Tough thing to swallow that I never solved it.”
“Weren’t you born after Jewel went missing?” Jack asked.
“True, but my father worked this case for years. He interviewed countless people, and kept meticulous records. You need to hear the maid’s story. That’s the one that always got to me.”
“The maid—you mean Addie?”
He looked confused. “Addie . . . Addie . . . Yeah, Adeline Truscott. That was her name. Would have liked to questioned her myself, but of course she’d passed on by the time I was old enough to join the force. Her account was the most bizarre thing I’d heard in my entire tenure. The whole business proved to be riddled with oddities.”
Sam stopped scribbling and looked up. “How so?”
“I’m not sure how much you folks know . . . ‘been trying to recall the details of the case since I spoke with you on the phone. I wish I could tell you I still had all the records, but they don’t give you much room when you move into a place like this. Most of my stuff I had to let go. But I kept this.” He picked up the file and handed it to Jack. The rocker squeaked as he settled back. “Now there’s a lot of info in there. Mostly my own notes. But I wrote what I could. Thought it might help you in your search. I don’t suppose we’ll ever know what happened. But all the evidence pointed to that husband of hers.”
When Jack opened the folder a 5x7 of Jewel slid into his lap. He’d never seen it before. The pose was a striking side view. Mesmerizing. He rotated it so Sam could see.
She tipped her head, looking speculatively. “You’re right, there’s a haunting quality about her, and something so familiar.” She gazed at the photograph longer and lifted a shoulder. “Bill, would you mind if I snapped a picture of this with my phone?”
“It and the file are yours to keep. These are copies. I have the original if I need them.”
“You said that the husband had been the main suspect, but we found records he joined the army and had left for Europe.”
“Yeah.” He snorted. “That guy was some piece of work; I tell ya. His trip overseas is a story in itself. But it’s all hearsay. I got no proof. I spent over fifty years in law enforcement, but my gut screams this doctor was the angel of death. You know what I mean?”
Jack nodded. “We’d love to hear what you have to say.”
Bill settled into his chair, and took a long, steady sip from his glass. He was careful to set it on the table, not too close to the edge. Taking a deep breath, he let his eyes travel through the decades to when he was just a young man, back to the first time he’d stolen into his father’s study and sneaked into his case files. He was just fourteen-years old when the beautiful girl in the photo stole his heart . . .
Chapter 34
Addie submerged her hands beneath the warm, soapy water. Any other time, washing dishes was a chore she rather enjoyed. But fear and danger lurked behind every corner, sapping the smallest pleasures. Her nerves were as frayed as the hem of her old cotton housecoat.
She scrubbed a particularly obstinate crust of cheese that had stuck fast to the pan. “Stubborn thing,” she fretted aloud. You’re one to talk, the cheesy mess accused.
Great! Now her imagination was running away with her. Besides, she preferred the word: determined. Her Rupert would have suggested pig-headed and he’d have been right.
Common sense persisted in pointing out the peril involved at every turn. Only sheer doggedness kept her from fleeing for safety . . . that and the fact she wouldn’t leave Miss Jewel alone in good conscience. Her practical side had wavered more than once since she’d decided to take matters into her own hands. The damage Dr. Wiltshire inflicted was enough to cause alarm, and she didn’t plan to be the next victim.
She scoured the spot with more vigor, considering for the hundredth time the possibility of walking out that door, catching the train, and heading to her niece’s place in Maryland. She’d never mentioned her great niece to anyone—she valued her privacy. Family was definitely a topic off limits.
Timeless Moments Page 23