Silent Witness

by Patricia H. Rushford

  Maggie reached back to lift her brown shoulder-length hair off her neck. “As to why Tim is so concerned for Sarah, he adores her. She’s his only niece. I suppose part of his concern is that we really don’t know what Sarah saw. Only that it was more than what she could handle.” Jennie leaned back in her chair and took a sip of the bittersweet lemonade. Something didn’t feel right. So who are you, McGrady, Sherlock Holmes? Forget it. The police have solved the murder. Besides, solving one case does not make you a detective. That was true enough, but she wasn’t about to forget it, not yet. Jennie had phased out of the conversation and when she tuned back in, Gram was asking Maggie about her new husband, Carl Layton.

  “I feel like I should know that name,” Gram was saying. “Of course, wasn’t there an article about him recently in the newspaper?”

  Maggie nodded, pride evident in her smile. “Yes, he does a lot of work with people who were abused as children. His treatment program is one of the best in the country.”

  “Hmmm,” Gram mused, “but he couldn’t help Sarah?”

  “He did up to a point. When it first happened, Sarah couldn’t do anything. She’d just lie there all curled up. Over the months, she began to respond. Now she can walk, eat, take care of her personal needs, and even though Carl tells me it’s wishful thinking, I’m sure Sarah can read. She’s a bright, intelligent girl and in some respects seems almost normal. But she’s like a robot. She functions, but emotionally she’s just not there.”

  The lights are on, but nobody’s home. Sarah had looked pretty spaced-out in the airport. Her eyes had a vacant look, but there was something there. Jennie was sure she’d read fear in those eyes. Or maybe a cry for help? Or was it just a feeling—the McGrady imagination working overtime again? Well, there was one way to find out for sure. “Where is Sarah?” she asked.

  “In a session with Debbie, which reminds me, I’d better head back to the dock. I wish I could say Sarah would love to meet you. But I don’t know that.” Maggie stretched her long manicured fingers across her white cotton skirt as if trying to smooth out the wrinkles. She thanked them for the drink, stood, and started to leave, then turned back. “Oh, when you meet Sarah, try to act natural around her. I mean, talk to her as if she understands everything you’re saying. Carl says we need to treat her as if she does.” Maggie turned again and hurried down the path and disappeared into her cabin.

  “What do you think, Gram?” Jennie gathered the three glasses and headed inside.

  Gram followed. “I think that family is in a great deal of pain.”

  “No, I mean about the murder. Do you think Ramsey did it?”

  “I have no reason to suspect otherwise. Do you?”

  Jennie shrugged and set the glasses in the sink. “I guess I’m just wondering why her brother thought the bomb threat was meant for Sarah and why he’s so sure it wasn’t Ramsey. And why is he worried about Sarah being in danger and not Carl?”

  “Perhaps he feels the crime was solved too quickly. Or that a murder/suicide is too easy a solution. Since there was no trial he may feel that the issue is still unresolved. There are a number of suppositions I could make, but the only way we can know for certain is to ask him.” Gram raised her arms and stretched from one side to the other. “I’m not sure whether to go for a walk or take a nap, but I do know I need to get some of these kinks out of my muscles.”

  “Why don’t we take a walk and you can help me work on this mystery.”

  “I’m not sure there is a mystery,” Gram said, grunting as she dropped into a crouch and stretched one leg out behind her.

  Jennie propped herself against the wall and folded her arms. “Well, what if Tim is right? What if the bomb threat was meant for Sarah? What if the murderer is afraid the dolphins will help Sarah get better? What if the killer followed them out here? Sarah could be in real danger.”

  Gram switched legs and kept stretching. “Jennie, I know you’re concerned about Sarah. And you’re right. If Ramsey is not the murderer, and if Sarah was indeed a witness and gets well and is able to remember what happened, then yes, she could be in a great deal of danger. And from what we’ve heard, so could her stepfather. But there’s nothing to indicate that that’s the case. You heard Maggie …” Gram straightened and started running in place, “… there’s been no attempt on Sarah’s life—or Carl’s.”

  Logically, Gram was right and Jennie told her so. “I know I should just forget about it and have a good time, but I just have this feeling …”

  Gram stopped running and ran her arm across her forehead to push back her hair. “Whew,” she panted. “It’s too hot for this sort of thing. I think I’ll have to go to plan B and take a nap.”

  “Gram …”

  “I know, Jennie, I’m not ignoring you. I’m just not certain what to tell you. If there is a problem here, and the real murderer is still at large, I don’t want you involved. I also know that you aren’t about to forget it. You’ve got too much McGrady in you.” She sighed. “Okay, we’ll look into it. I’ll see if I can get copies of the police reports and talk to whoever was in charge of the investigation. Just promise me you won’t do anything that could put you in danger, and if you learn anything, you’ll keep me posted.”

  Jennie pushed off from the wall and went to give Gram a hug. “I promise. Thanks.”

  While Gram rested, Jennie took a shower, then settled down to read in a shaded hammock that stretched between two palm trees. After a couple of pages, the book dropped to her side and she fell asleep.

  Jennie drifted in and out of consciousness, aware of the sweet musty scent of wet grass, of waves lapping on the nearby beach, and of the gentle breeze as it rocked the hammock. Something brushed her arm. A fly. Jennie brushed at it. “Go away,” she mumbled. She felt it again. This time it brushed her cheek. Irritated, she lifted her hand to flick it away and came in contact not with a bug but a human hand.

  9

  Jennie screamed and bolted upright, almost falling out of the hammock.

  “Hey, take it easy.” Scott grabbed her arm and the hammock to steady her.

  “What do you think you’re doing? You nearly gave me a heart attack.” Jennie swung her legs over the hammock’s edge and hopped out.

  Scott chuckled and spread his hands open innocently.

  “You sure are jumpy. I was just trying to wake you up gently.”

  “I wasn’t sleeping.” Jennie brushed by him and headed for the house.

  “Yeah right. You were snoring.”

  Jennie stopped short and spun around, nearly bumping into him. “I do not snore.”

  “Okay, so you don’t snore. Do you want to know what else you don’t do when you’re sleeping?”

  Jennie gave him her best drop-dead look.

  “Hey, take it easy. You were lying there so peaceful—like, I couldn’t resist teasing you a little.”

  Scott’s grin was infectious and Jennie relented. “Okay, I forgive you, but I’d watch my back if I were you.” She raised her eyebrows and looked him in the eye. “I’ll have my revenge.”

  Scott laughed and his green eyes sparkled like sunlight on the water. The butterflies in Jennie’s tummy took wing and she looked away. “What are you doing out here anyway? I thought you were working.”

  “I am. My first official duty is to escort you and your grandmother to dinner.”

  Scott and Jennie went to collect Grant, who’d fallen asleep on the couch. After freshening up, they left the cabin by the front door and headed toward the main lodge.

  Jennie hadn’t realized how hungry she was until they approached the dining area and the wonderful scent of spices filled the air. The oversized multipurpose hall looked as though it served as a classroom, dining room, and recreation room. Four large round tables occupied one corner. In another corner stood a pool table, a bookshelf, and a cupboard bulging with puzzles and games. A stack of foldin
g chairs hugged a back wall next to a projector, a screen, and a podium. On the west wall three floor-to-ceiling windows overlooked the Gulf.

  Good smells wafted out of a large kitchen off to one side. The atmosphere reminded Jennie of church camp. Except that at camp, loud hungry campers crammed the dining room and the noise level was high enough to shatter glass. So far, except for a couple of cooks preparing food in the kitchen, they were the only people there.

  She was about to comment on that fact to Gram and Scott when Debbie and Ken joined them and motioned toward a table nearest the kitchen. “There’ll only be eleven of us for dinner tonight, because you, Maggie, and Sarah are our only guests. We eat buffet-style …”

  Debbie handed them menus and explained about ordering meals a day ahead, so the chef would know how much food to prepare. Jennie shifted her gaze to the door, anxious to meet Sarah. A group of four bustled in and took a second table. Debbie introduced them as their secretary Pam, trainers Heidi and Jack, and Dick, the head maintenance man.

  It wasn’t until the food had been placed on a reach­through counter adjoining the kitchen and dining room and everyone had gone through the line, that Maggie and Sarah made their entrance.

  The first thing Jennie noticed was the absence of a wheelchair. The second was that Sarah was almost the same height as her mother—about 5’4”, Jennie guessed. Her cheeks were flushed and her skin had the healthy glow of a new tan. Sarah walked slightly behind Maggie and looked like a normal fourteen-year-old girl. Her light brown hair, still shiny and wet from swimming, had recently been cut in a short boyish style that didn’t quite suit her face. Skinny arms and legs protruded from her pale blue, shell-print t-shirt and white shorts. She was pretty, or would be if she weighed another ten pounds.

  Maggie pulled out a chair and guided Sarah into it. “Jennie, Helen,” she said, “I’d like you to meet my daughter, Sarah Stanford. Sarah, Jennie and Mrs. McGrady are from Portland. Maybe you remember seeing them at the airport.”

  Jennie wasn’t sure what she expected, some sign of recognition maybe, but Sarah stared straight ahead into a place somewhere between her and Gram. Disappointment flooded her. She had hoped for a sign that the look Sarah had given her at the airport had meant something.

  Now Jennie wasn’t even sure of that. Maybe it had only been a trick of the lights, or Jennie’s imagination.

  She spent the rest of dinner trying not to stare at Sarah, listening to the others talk, and eating egg-flower soup, veggie-wontons, tofu-vegetable stir-fry, and white rice. Everything, even the tofu, tasted great. Maybe being a vegetarian for a week and a half might not be all that bad—as long as Gram and I can sneak out at least once for a pizza or hamburgers.

  After dinner, Scott challenged Jennie to a game of pool. She almost declined when Gram announced that she, Maggie, and Sarah were going back to the cabins. Give it up, McGrady. There’s no mystery. Besides, what would you rather do, sit around trying to get a response out of Sarah or hang out with Scott? Jennie glanced from Sarah to Scott. The girl’s eyes were like two black holes—cold, dark, and almost inhuman. Scott’s were warm and inviting. No contest. “You go ahead, Gram. I’m going to stay here and show Scott how to play pool.”

  “Show me how to play?” Scott countered. “Listen, frog face, I’ve been playing pool since I could walk.”

  “Frog face?” Jennie pointed a finger al his chest and poked him. “Well listen, toad head, my mother played pool when she was pregnant, so I learned how to play while I was still in the womb.”

  “Choose your weapon.” Scott retrieved two cue sticks and held them up for Jennie’s inspection. “Hey, Mrs. McGrady. You sure you don’t want to stay and referee this match?”

  Gram chuckled. “Not a chance. Don’t worry, Scott,” she teased. “The McGradys have always treated their opponents fairly. I’m sure she’ll let you win at least one game.”

  Scott feigned a wounded look. “I’m hurt.” Then, with an eyebrow raised, he turned to Jennie, “But I’m tough. You’re dead meat, McGrady.” Scott gathered the balls and racked them. “Just to show you what a good sport I am, I’ll let you break.”

  “Break?”

  “Ha! This is going to be so easy. Just take your best shot.”

  They stopped razzing each other to say goodnight to Maggie, Sarah, and Gram. Gram started to leave, then turned back. “Try to be in by ten, dear. I’d like us to chat and have a cup of tea before we turn in.”

  “Okay,” Jennie called over her shoulder as she chalked her cue.

  “Don’t worry, Mrs. McGrady,” Scott said as Gram headed out the door. “I’ll have her home in plenty of time.”

  Jennie elbowed him in the ribs. “I can get myself home. This is not a date, you know.” When Scott didn’t answer, Jennie added, “You okay? I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings or anything.”

  “Sure. I’m okay. What’s a broken heart? It’ll mend.” He heaved a deep melodramatic sigh, then said, “Actually, I was just thinking about what we can do to make this more challenging.” Scott chalked his cue and blew off the residue. He cocked his head to one side and gave her a smile that reminded Jennie of the Cheshire cat in Alice in Wonderland. “How about this? We play three games. The loser has to take the winner on a date to Disney World.”

  “That’s a pretty spendy date. Couldn’t we just play for a couple of bucks?”

  “Oh, I get it.” Scott leaned his hip against the table.

  “You don’t even know how to play, do you? You’re all mouth and no action.”

  You gonna let him get away with that, McGrady? Just because you’ve only played pool three or four times in your entire life is no reason to back down. “Okay,” Jennie heard herself say, “you’re on.”

  When the games ended, she’d had so much fun it hadn’t mattered that he’d trounced her. Or that she now owed him a date to Disney World and Epcot Center. After the first game, he’d suggested they up the ante. Unable to resist the challenge, Jennie had agreed.

  “Hey, how about we head down to the beach and view the sunset?” Scott asked, taking her hand. They strolled down the short walk and along the beach. When they’d gone to where they could no longer see the lights from the research center, they dropped to the ground. Jennie removed her sandals and pressed her feet into the still­warm sand.

  A breeze lifted the loose stands of her hair. The sun, a blazing orange ball, hovered on the horizon, gifting the earth with its splendor. Jennie raised her face to it and closed her eyes. “It’s so beautiful here,” she whispered, afraid that speaking aloud would break the spell.

  Scott picked up a handful of sand and let it sift through his fingers. “Yeah. It’s a great spot. Makes you wish it could last forever.”

  Jennie glanced over at him and back at the sunset. “Do you think you’ll like working here?”

  He shrugged. “I guess. I’ll be doing odd jobs while they train me to work with the dolphins. Ken put me in charge of feeding them.”

  “You don’t seem very enthusiastic.”

  “I love the dolphins. I just don’t like seeing them used. There’s a place in Australia where dolphins used to come in really close to shore. People fed them and they started coming in all the time. Some guys decided they could make a few bucks off the dolphins and research them at the same time. Anyway, they developed this elaborate park where people could interact with the dolphins. It seemed like a good plan at first, then the dolphins started getting sick. Several died. An environmental group tested the water and found high levels of E-coli bacteria.” Scott picked up a seashell and stared at it.

  “What happened? What would cause something like that?”

  “The park toilets leaked raw sewage into the water.”

  He tossed the shell into the water. “But it was an accident.” “Right. So are all the oil spills.”

  Jennie didn’t respond. What could she say? She wasn’t
about to defend people’s destructive habits, but it didn’t help to get depressed about it. In a way, she admired Scott, with his intense desire to save the earth. On the other hand, she felt concerned for him, but wasn’t sure why.

  As they watched the sun sink into the water and the sky turn to shades of purple and orange, Scott draped an arm around her shoulders. “Hey, look.” He pointed to a bright star directly above them. “First star. Want to make a wish?”

  Jennie closed her eyes and wished that Sarah would get well. When she opened them, Scott was watching her.

  “I wished that you’d let me kiss you,” he said softly.

  Scott was so close. All she had to do was lean forward and their lips would meet. She liked Scott. She liked his sense of humor and his serious side—especially that side because he cared so much. Go ahead, McGrady. Kiss him, one voice in her head insisted. Lisa would. But you’re not Lisa, another said. Still another asked, What about Ryan?

  “I don’t think that would be a good idea,” Jennie said, turning to face the water. Then, thinking she should explain, added, “I have a boyfriend—sort of. I mean, we’re not going steady or anything, but … I don’t know, it just wouldn’t be right.”

  Scott stood up and brushed the sand from his clothes, then reached down to give her a hand up. In the dark she couldn’t see his expression. Why didn’t he say something? “Are you mad at me?” she asked.

  “Nope.”

  “Then why are you in such a hurry to leave?”

  He chuckled and held up his watch. “It’s ten o’clock.” Jennie tried to land a punch to his midsection. He ducked and ran ahead of her. She chased him as far as the lawn, then stopped to slip on her sandals. Scott waited for her, helped her to her feet, and walked her back to the cabin.