Eyes of a Stanger

by Rachel Ann Nunes

  Bret unfolded the papers, all of which seemed to be copies of the same drawing. “Have either of you seen this girl before? Her name’s Sheree.”

  She was the type of girl Tawnia’s mother would have prevented her from befriending, perhaps rightly so. A girl who cared only about her own satisfaction. Or was that her mother talking? Would Winter have loved the girl into finding her best self? It was hard to say, and Tawnia bet if she herself ever had children, she wouldn’t take the risk.

  “Never,” Autumn said with surety.

  “Really? Never down at the river?”

  “Nope.”

  “I haven’t seen her, either,” Tawnia said. “She doesn’t look the slightest bit familiar.”

  Bret frowned. “That’s what everyone has said so far. But someone has to have seen her.”

  “Why?” Autumn looked again at the drawing. “What does she have to do with anything?”

  He shook his head. “I can’t tell you the details. For your protection, really. But this girl might somehow have been involved with the bridge collapse.”

  “How?” barked Autumn, her hand fisted at her side. There was a hardness in her face that Tawnia hadn’t seen before. “Tell me!”

  “You could get in trouble if you knew.”

  Tawnia snorted. “Oh, come on. You act as if you’re with the FBI or something.”

  “Well, actually, I have been working with them all night.”

  “You haven’t been home?” His clothes did seem rumpled.

  “Hotel. No. I’ve been working. I’ve been helping determine what kind of explosives and how much was used.”

  “Who’s the girl?” demanded Autumn.

  “Yeah.” Tawnia lifted her chin. “Don’t change the subject. You told us about the bombs, and we haven’t told anyone, so you can tell us about this.”

  Bret sighed and sank into an empty chair at the table, his gaze going from one to the other. “The girl allegedly enticed the bridge operator out of the control cabin shortly before the boat hit the bridge. But someone was in there because the lift went up.”

  His slight hesitation told Tawnia he was omitting at least some details, but given the increasing color of Autumn’s face, she let it go for the moment.

  Autumn exploded. “You mean thirty-one people died or are missing partly because some bridge operator was flirting with this girl instead of doing his job?”

  Bret lifted a hand to ward off the tumble of words. “Wait a minute. We don’t know for sure how this connects to the explosives. At this point we know only what the bridge operator is claiming. It could all be a lie.” He pointed to the bottom of the drawing near the girl’s left arm where there was an unreadable flourish of a signature. “Alec Hanks,” Bret said. “That’s the bridge operator. He drew this. Know him?” Both Tawnia and Autumn shook their heads.

  “What does the FBI say?” Autumn asked.

  Again the slight hesitation that signaled omission of details. “They’ll do their own investigation, of course. I’m just asking around because I’ve been close to many of the employees lately.”

  “Then you think it might be an inside job?” Tawnia sat down on the chair beside him.

  Autumn cast her an admiring glance. “It has to be.”

  “Nothing is for sure,” Bret said. “We don’t know anything.”

  “Except that the bridge was blown up.” Tawnia sighed. “And you’re still hiding something from us. About this picture.”

  “Okay, I am. The fact is that the FBI actually aren’t investigating anything to do with this girl yet. Alec Hanks is actually the son of the Bridge Section manager Clyde Hanks, and they haven’t reported his absence from the cabin to the police or given them a copy of this drawing.”

  Tawnia stared at him. “But they have to.”

  “I told them that. I think they will, but meanwhile, I’m doing some checking around about the girl.” Bret folded the papers together again. “There is some good news. A couple of hours ago we found in the rubble a charge that didn’t go off. Wires weren’t connected right or something. Saves us a lot of time figuring out how they did it. Turns out they used a kind of blasting gelatin. It’s called high velocity, and it’s the most powerful of all commercial explosives. Since it’s waterproof, it can sit in water for days without degrading. It can even be used in really deep water without misfiring, though I believe the regular grade would have worked very well in this case. The billows of clouds everyone saw were not only from the collapse itself but from the fumes of the explosives. The noise of the explosion was muted because of the water, but many people remember hearing some sort of rumbling or explosion.”

  “Like a boom,” Autumn said softly. “I think I remember that now. But the grating noise was there almost from the beginning, too. I thought they were the part of the same thing. Or maybe that was the boat hitting the bridge.”

  Bret nodded. “I think everyone assumed that.”

  “Are you saying the boat and the lift had nothing at all to do with the collapse?” Tawnia asked. “That it was a coincidence it just happened to be passing by?”

  Bret shrugged. “The boat could have simply been another innocent victim, I suppose. Or . . .” He trailed off.

  “Or what?” Tawnia pressed.

  “It might have everything to do with it. That boat could have been used to plant the explosives.”

  “And then they set it off before they could get away?” Autumn shook her head. “They ran into the bridge, remember?”

  “I know.” Bret rubbed a hand over the stubble on his chin. “It doesn’t make sense that they’d use the boat and then not let it get free.”

  “You said yourself the explosives were waterproof,” Tawnia said. “They could have been set days before, and then the boat was used for a distraction. Or cover-up, more likely.”

  “That does make more sense. But I just keep thinking of those fins on the boat.”

  “The ones we found.” Autumn rose and began pacing.

  “Yeah, I keep asking myself, What happened to the rest of the suit? I thought when I first saw them that the authorities had confiscated the rest of the equipment to test for explosives or something, but I asked the FBI, and they didn’t know anything about it.”

  Autumn ripped off a bit of nail from her thumb. “Maybe there never was a suit. Maybe the owner sometimes goes swimming in the river in his underwear.”

  “I suppose. It still bugs me, though. I don’t know many men who go swimming in their underwear with fins.”

  Tawnia had to smile. This was the Bret she knew—careful down to the tips of his fingers. A lot like she was. Maybe that was the real reason they hadn’t been able to make it work.

  “I know a lot of people who swim without anything on,” Autumn put in. “I grew up with hippies. I don’t think the fins mean anything.”

  “Maybe not.”

  Tawnia looked at the apple clock on the wall. “Well, you two go ahead and play detective. I have fifteen minutes to get out of here if I want to make it to work on time.” At least she wouldn’t get lost since Autumn lived so close. She hurried from the room, giving Bret a last glance as she left. His eyes met hers, and she looked away.

  Fourteen minutes later she found Bret and Autumn sitting at the kitchen table, their heads close together as they peered over Autumn’s picture album. Tawnia felt a familiar surge of emotion she was beginning to associate with jealousy. She didn’t want Bret looking so happy without her. Or Autumn so content. Shaking her head in disgust, she started to leave without speaking, but Bret jumped up from the table.

  “Wait.” He quickly covered the space between them. “Take a copy of the drawing. Pass it around. You never know who might have seen her. Someone in this town has to know her.”

  As Tawnia accepted the paper, his fingers brushed hers. She looked up at him quickly, but he was already walking away.

  • • •

  “What did you do?” Dustin Bronson challenged Tawnia as she approached her office.<
br />
  She looked at him blankly. “What are you talking about?”

  “First you land the big billboard account, and now my account suddenly calls up and cancels everything? Something stinks.”

  Tawnia took a moment to let that sink in. “Are you talking about Multnomah County?”

  “Of course I’m talking about Multnomah. But then you already know that, don’t you? I thought it was suspicious when I talked to that engineer yesterday. He’s from Nevada, and I bet you know him, don’t you? What did you say to him?” He looked like an angry blond-haired rooster, with his spiked hair and arrogant expression.

  “I really don’t know what you’re talking about.” But suddenly she did. Now that the cause of the collapse had been traced to explosives, the county was no longer accountable. They couldn’t have prevented this mess, and no lawsuit could win against them. In fact, the threat of terrorism might bring all of Portland together far more effectively than any publicity campaign. Naturally, Multnomah would opt out of paying so much money for publicity they no longer needed.

  Of course, she couldn’t tell Dustin any of this until the authorities went public with the news, but it gave her no small satisfaction that the man was crashing and burning because of his own dishonesty. If she’d won that account, she’d be the one holding the bag, but now the higher echelons would wonder what Dustin had done to cause the county to cancel.

  “Did they give you a reason?” she asked lightly.

  “They said they’d changed their minds,” Dustin growled.

  She tilted her head to the side and studied him. “Then maybe that’s what actually happened.” Turning on her heel, she stepped through the open door to her team’s room. Already there was life in the cubicles, as Shanna’s blonde head could be seen in Sean’s space, moving as she talked animatedly.

  Dustin’s hand closed over Tawnia’s arm, stopping her flight. She stared at his hand silently until he took it away. “Look, I can’t say I’m sorry, Dustin, because I still think you’re a snake, but I had nothing to do with it. Even if I had the connections, that’s not who I am.”

  He nodded, looking slightly appeased.

  Tawnia remembered the drawing and took it from her purse. “That reminds me. Have you seen this girl?” Dustin’s connection with his college co-eds might be useful.

  He studied the drawing. “There are dozens like her in my classes, but no, I don’t know her in particular. Why do you ask?”

  Tawnia hadn’t thought of an explanation. “A friend is looking for her. Apparently, she left a memory of her face but not her phone number.”

  “I see.” Dustin’s eyes flicked to the drawing briefly and then to her face. “Well, later. Maybe we can do lunch.”

  Not on your life, Tawnia thought, but she did feel a sliver of pity for the man. “If I were you, I’d call that Multnomah guy and try to sell him something else. A scaled-down something. You never know.”

  “Thanks. I’ll give him a call. He’s a jerk, though, so I doubt he’ll go for it.”

  As she watched Dustin leave him, a new thought came to her. Was it only a coincidence that Alec Hanks was the bridge operator the day of the collapse? Had the girl known he’d be there or had she been prepared to seduce any man away from his task? If Alec had been chosen specifically, was it because he had a known weakness for women, or because someone wanted to get back at his father? If so, that might narrow down the list of suspects. Terrorists might not be involved at all.

  She wished she could talk to Bret about it, but he was probably still with Autumn.

  How long would it take them to fall in love? It had taken her only a few weeks with Bret.

  I can’t think about this now. Plastering a smile on her face, she lifted a hand in greeting to her team members before going into her office.

  Chapter 14

  Well, look at you, girl!” Jake beamed at Autumn with his even white teeth as she walked into the store. He was more handsome than the last time she’d seen him, though the dreadlocks would have been a little startling if she wasn’t accustomed to them. Today he was again wearing immaculate off-white cargo-style pants, this time with a snug blue T-shirt that showed his muscles to good advantage. “You look fabulous,” he continued. “Well, your hair’s a little messy, but besides that, fab. Just fab.”

  “You try to wash and style your hair with one hand,” she retorted, feeling more defensive than the comment merited. She lifted the long cotton sleeve she’d worn to hide the removable brace on her broken arm.

  “That would never work for me.” He clicked his tongue in pity.

  Autumn knew. Some thought people with dreadlocks never washed or took care of their hair, but the truth was that Jake carefully washed his locks every two or three days with a residue-free shampoo, and he maintained the style by rolling in loose hairs and by using special products to make sure the tips had good knots. The maintenance time involved wasn’t as great now as when he had first started the dreads a few years ago, but the style was a lot more to take care of than the buzz he’d previously worn. To go with the dreadlocks, he sported a smattering of facial hair along the line of his jaw and his upper lip, which he always trimmed short every few days. He was a hit with all the ladies, from the older ones who enjoyed his nice smile and stared in fascination at his hair to the younger ones who noted his muscles and blushed whenever he glanced their way.

  Jake had already opened both the Herb Shoppe and Autumn’s Antiques, and several customers drifted between the stores by way of the connecting double doors. Because they could ring up at either desk, recordkeeping had at first been tedious as they struggled to figure out which profits went to which business, but Jake had a friend who’d written a program for their computers, and now Autumn hardly gave it a thought. Not that it mattered much even in the old days, except to determine inventory and purchases, because she and Winter had shared everything. Of course, now both stores were hers.

  “Did I say something wrong?” Jake’s face showed concern. His strong arm was around her instantly.

  “No, I’m fine,” Autumn made herself say. “Really. It’s just weird being here . . . without . . .”

  Jake gave a sympathetic cluck. “You sure you want to be here? I can call my little sister. She’s glad to help out after school.”

  “No. I have to do this.” Besides, he’d been here too much alone as it was, and he’d probably had to endure several rushes with impatient customers.

  “Okay. But you let me know if you need to leave.” The arm around her tightened. “Don’t look now, but here comes the blue lady. You know, the one who has the thing for Winter.”

  Autumn looked and saw Thera Brinker bearing down on them from the Herb Shoppe, her white hair swooped up elegantly on her head. She wore all blue, as she always did, because it was a calming color and she had had “too much excitement with that first no-good husband of hers.” Today she wore a huge multistrand blue bead necklace that made her look slightly ridiculous, but she was a kind woman who was fun to be around. Autumn had begun to suspect of late that Winter might think the same.

  “Oh, Autumn, I just heard. I can’t believe it! What you must be feeling!” Tears laced every word. “I’m so sorry!” Thera swept Autumn into her arms, crushing her to the bosom that would have been soft had it not been for the bulky beads.

  This was the part Autumn had dreaded. The running into people who had been close to her and Winter or who had somehow been a part of their lives. She didn’t want the pity, the questions, the agony they would bring as she was forced to talk about him.

  “You don’t have to say a word, sweetie, unless you want to. Your father was a wonderful man, and we all know it. We’re going to miss him—and we’re certainly going to take care of you.”

  Autumn let herself be rocked in Thera’s arms, finding a comfort she hadn’t expected. Maybe she’d been wrong to hide out by the river, avoiding all her friends.

  She did have friends. They came in all day as word spread that she was
back. Regular customers, people who lived in her apartment building, and owners of other stores on the block. Though she had thought she had no more tears left, she cried repeatedly, but these tears were cleansing, without the lonely bitterness of before.

  Between talking with her friends and taking care of the few strangers who came through the door, Autumn was in the back room on her phone searching for the man who’d delivered her and taken her to Winter and Summer to raise. She had no memory of the doctor, except what Summer had told her, but he was supposed to have visited quite often in her first few years of life. Why had he stopped? A move, probably. Every number she’d called so far belonged to someone else.

  Jake appeared over her shoulder. She’d told him about Tawnia, and he seemed as excited as she was about contacting the doctor. “Maybe he’s dead. Did you think of that? It’s been a lot of years since you were born. I mean, he could have been old even then.”

  “You’re not helping!”

  “Well, I’m just saying. It’s a possibility.”

  Autumn sighed. “If he’s dead, I might never find out if we’re related.”

  “You could find out on the Internet, I bet. If he’s still alive, I mean.” A bell sounded, signaling that someone had entered one of their shops. “I’ll take care of that.”

  After one last futile call to a clinic in Portland, Autumn grabbed the small box of her parents’ records and headed for the computer that she also used as a register. Clumsily, with only the fingers of her left hand, she typed in “Oregon death records,” followed a link, and ended up on Ancestry.com. “Floyd Blaine Loveridge,” she murmured, typing in the doctor’s name. A few names came up, and one of them matched exactly. The year of death was twenty-seven years earlier. She tried clicking on the link, and up came a menu offering a free trial membership, so she signed up, but she didn’t learn any more. Dr. Loveridge was dead. Surely there couldn’t be another man with that exact name who had lived in Portland. Apparently, her search had been over even before Summer had died. No wonder she didn’t remember him.