Footprints in the Sand

by Mary Jane Clark

  But, again, it was the fate of his sister that concerned Levi more. He loved Miriam and would do anything to protect her. Levi wouldn’t ever be able to reveal what he knew, because doing so could lead to her death. He had no reason to doubt that the murderer would make good on his threat to find a way to kill Miriam if Levi identified him.

  The killer wanted nothing more than to eliminate any witnesses; the police wanted to solve their case. As he waited for the detective to return, Levi decided to go through with what he had only been considering before. He could do something that would satisfy both the killer and the police.

  The detective entered the room. “You can go for now,” he announced. “But don’t leave town. We’re going to want to talk to you again.” He motioned to Levi. “Come on, get up. We’ll drive you home.”

  “No thank you,” said Levi, thinking of his parents’ humiliation when a police car dropped off their son. “I can get home on my own.”

  When he walked out of the station, the sun was just coming up. As he headed toward Pinecraft, Levi’s resolve strengthened. Though he hated to saddle his parents with the stigma and pain, he wanted to protect Miriam. He also ached to be released from the mental agony he was enduring. The thought of an entire lifetime of this ahead—of looking over his shoulder, of worrying about the killer harming his sister—filled him with dread. It would be better all around to end the whole thing.

  He would take responsibility for Shelley’s murder.

  Chapter 43

  The alarm went off way too early. Cryder instantly remembered the late night at the hospital. Before he went in for office hours, he wanted to check on Roz.

  With his eyes still closed, Cryder reached out beside him and felt the empty space. Umiko had already gone for her morning walk. She very rarely missed it.

  He had to hand it to his wife. She was incredibly disciplined. With her exercise, with her diet, with her housekeeping and careful budgeting. Even when his practice had been young, Umiko had managed to create a seemingly more affluent lifestyle than their income warranted. Now, though they had much more money, she didn’t want to move to a bigger or more luxurious place. Umiko was very satisfied with their two-bedroom, one-and-a-half-bath town house. It was their magnificent view of the Gulf of Mexico that she loved and never wanted to leave. Her parents must have sensed that when they named her: Umiko means “child of the sea.”

  Location, location, location.

  Umiko recited the real-estate chant whenever he brought up the subject of selling the place to Walter Engel. Cryder was more than willing to take the profit they would realize and find something else. Maybe an all-on-one-level condo downtown in a high-rise with a marina view. Something newer, with more space, and closer to his office would suit him just fine.

  But Umiko was adamantly against selling. She wept whenever he mentioned the subject. Cryder wasn’t going to insist that his wife give up the place that made her so happy. He owed her that much. Umiko had already followed him around the world. It hadn’t always been easy for her.

  But Walter Engel was persistent. He was determined to persuade the Robbinses and everyone else in the complex to sell their places to him. Cryder knew that Roz Golubock was also one of the holdouts.

  Getting out of bed, he went to the picture window. He stared out, trying to spot Umiko. He recognized her wide-brimmed hat and slim figure down on the beach where Shelley Hart’s body had been found the day before. Cryder was certain that even a murder wasn’t going to convince Umiko to sell.

  Chapter 44

  Propping the pillows behind her, Piper sat up in bed, grabbed her phone, and went straight to her Facebook page. She read through the comments that friends had written in response to the picture of the crime scene she’d posted the day before. Most of the twenty-odd comments advised her to be careful. A few asked who the shirtless beefcake was standing at the right side of the photo. One person even commented on Brad’s tattoo:

  AS A TATTOO LOVER MYSELF, I ZOOMED IN TO SEE WHAT WAS ON THE HUNK’S ARM. MY BET IS THAT GUY HAS DONE TIME. HE GOT THAT TAT IN PRISON.

  Good catch, thought Piper. She was reminded again of how increasingly difficult it was to get away with anything, what with better and better technology and a global village watching.

  She clicked on the television in time to hear the weatherman describing what people on Florida’s western coast could expect. Another day of sunshine with temperatures in the seventies.

  It had amused her years ago to notice how local news broadcasts here led with the weather forecast. She eventually realized that this was because the weather was so important to almost every Sarasota viewer. The threat of rain or an upcoming cold snap was of immense interest both to farmers and to businesses that depended on tourism. And of course tourists were interested, too.

  But it was the story after the weather that Piper wanted to hear. The only new detail being revealed to the public was the identity of the woman’s body found on Siesta Beach. Shelley Hart was described as a lifelong Sarasota resident. Police were asking anyone with information on the case to come forward.

  The following item wasn’t an actual edited news package. It was merely video voiced over by the anchorperson. The pictures showed a mangled yellow convertible being lifted onto a flatbed truck.

  “Also on Siesta Key, a car driven by an Ocean Boulevard homeowner crashed at the base of the North Bridge last night. The driver, eighty-seven-year-old Roz Golubock, was taken to Memorial Hospital. Police say the convertible may have been deliberately run off the road by another car. They are looking for witnesses.”

  Piper turned off the set. Shelley’s sandy grave, Roz’s treacherous crash. Would the police be able to solve the cases only if witnesses came forward with something they had seen?

  As she got out of bed, Piper instinctively felt that there was just one person who knew all the details of each case. The person responsible for both.

  Chapter 45

  With her three children scampering around the small kitchen, Jo-Jo Williams opened the refrigerator and pulled out a gallon container of milk. Almost empty. She made a mental note to get to Walmart as soon as the kids left for school.

  Add the milk to a very long list of things they needed. The cupboards were looking pretty darn bare. Try as Jo-Jo did to stretch her dollars, there just never seemed to be enough money to stock the shelves full again.

  She hated living paycheck to paycheck and depending on the tips she made at the bar at night. Her credit cards were maxed out, and the bill collectors called on a regular basis now. Even if her baby daddy helped out like he was supposed to but didn’t, Jo-Jo doubted she would ever be able to climb completely out of debt.

  As she transferred the store-brand puffed rice into bowls, Jo-Jo heard the weather report coming from the little television on the counter. She was glad it was going to be sunny. It was a pain to lug grocery bags in the rain.

  She poured the milk over the cereal, carefully dividing it three ways. The kids sat down and began to hungrily devour their breakfast. Jo-Jo noticed that all three of them needed new sneakers.

  “The dead woman was identified as twenty-seven-year-old Shelley Hart, a lifelong Sarasota resident.”

  Jo-Jo looked over in time to catch the woman’s face on the screen. She gasped as she realized that she recognized her. It was the woman who had come into the bar the other night and sat with that guy in the back. The big tipper.

  Chapter 46

  We’ll have three round tiers: a fourteen-inch, a ten-inch, and a six-inch. That should serve seventy-five to a hundred ten people.”

  Piper pushed the shopping cart as her mother reeled off the components necessary to make the wedding cake. Weeks ago Piper and Terri had calculated how much of each ingredient would be needed. Now all they had to do was follow their list.

  Pounds of flour, granulated and confectioners’ sugar, and unsalted butter we
re placed in the basket, followed by a large bottle of pure vanilla extract, a couple of cartons of eggs, and several containers of whole milk. After picking up a box of baking soda, they headed for the produce section, where they selected a mesh bag full of key limes.

  “That should do it,” said Terri as she surveyed the contents of the shopping cart.

  “Wait, we forgot the toothpicks,” said Piper. “You go get in line, Mom, and I’ll run and grab some.”

  As she turned the corner, Piper bumped into a man coming around from the next aisle.

  “Oh, excuse me,” she said as she looked up. She was startled to see Brad O’Hara’s face. His expression instantly changed from annoyance to pleasure.

  “And to think I was expecting this to be a lousy morning,” said Brad.

  Again, to Piper, his mouth seemed to be leering more than grinning. And the tattoo of the crying woman on his arm was really freaking her out.

  “Oh, yeah, hi. Sorry, my mother is waiting for me at the checkout,” said Piper as she managed a weak smile. “I’ve got to hurry.”

  “You’ve got to relax, Piper,” he said as he reached over and grabbed her arm. “Slow down and enjoy life. Let me take you for a kayak ride today.”

  Piper pulled away, shrugged, and managed to say, “I can’t. Remember? We’ve got that cruise on the bay this afternoon.”

  As she walked off, Piper could well understand why Shelley hadn’t wanted to have anything to do with him.

  Chapter 47

  It took him just over an hour to walk home. His mouth was dry, and his eyes burned. Levi spent the time figuring out how he was going to get everything accomplished. There was so much to do.

  First he had to face his parents. He dreaded seeing the bewilderment and worry in their eyes. He had never wanted to cause them any pain. He hated to think they were in for still more.

  Then he had to finish the hex sign. With no interruptions he could complete it this morning and deliver it to Piper Donovan after the restaurant’s lunch crowd left. Since this was going to be the last lunch he worked at Fisher’s, Levi wanted to stay and help as long as he was needed.

  As he walked along Bahia Vista, Levi was oblivious to the cars speeding by and the sun’s increasing intensity. Instead he noticed the weeds sticking out from cracks in the sidewalk and the scuff marks on the toes of his black shoes. Head down, step by step, Levi mentally composed the letter he was going to write.

  That was going to be the most challenging task of all. It had to be carefully worded. How to explain things in such a way that it kept Miriam safe yet ended the nightmare for good?

  Chapter 48

  Piper dropped her mother off at the front door of the inn and then drove around to the service entrance. As she started unloading the grocery bags from the trunk of the car, she heard a male voice. She looked around but didn’t see anyone. The voice seemed to be coming from the side of the building.

  Paying little attention, she lifted two bags from the trunk and began walking toward the door to the kitchen. She stiffened when she thought she heard the voice say, “Shelley.”

  Piper stopped and strained to listen. She couldn’t hear clearly. Many of the words were muted by distance and the wall. Quietly she put down her bags and edged closer to the corner of the building.

  “She was complicating everything.”

  A pause followed. Piper assumed that the man was having a phone conversation.

  “I’m just glad she’s out of the way,” he said. “I don’t appreciate being threatened.”

  Who was that? Piper wanted to peek around the corner, but she held herself in check. What if whoever was talking saw her? He certainly wouldn’t be pleased that she’d overheard his conversation.

  She decided to go back to the car and continue as if she was unloading it. If she waited a bit, he would finish his phone call and should pass right by her.

  Piper glanced up to see Isaac Goode coming around the corner. He looked happily surprised to see her. If he had anything to hide, it wasn’t apparent in the bright smile he directed her way.

  “Let me help you with those,” said Isaac when he saw the packages.

  “Thanks,” said Piper.

  Between the two of them, they carried everything into the kitchen in three trips. Isaac assisted in emptying the bags, putting away the things that needed to be refrigerated and organizing the dry ingredients on an empty counter.

  “You know, this is the first time I’ve encountered this situation,” said Isaac.

  Piper looked at him quizzically. “What situation?”

  “Guests making the wedding cake. I like to patronize the bakery I always use. I know they’re dependable and do a wonderful job. When Kathy told me she wanted you and your mother to make her cake, I wasn’t exactly thrilled.”

  “You don’t have to worry,” said Piper. “My mother has been doing this for years.”

  Isaac nodded. “That’s what Kathy said. And then she showed me the picture of the cake you made for that star of A Little Rain Must Fall, and I felt better. I adore that show. I’ve been watching it since I was a kid. I used to have a friend of mine tape it for me, and then I’d sneak over to her house to watch. I grew up in an Amish family. Nobody was into television.”

  Piper imagined a young Isaac hiding his interests and proclivities. Growing up must have been rough for him; she felt a pang of empathy. He didn’t seem like somebody who would kill anybody.

  “What was it like anyway?” he asked. “You know . . . being with all those soap people?”

  “It was fun,” she said. “I wish I could have spent more time with them.”

  “I remember when you were on there for a while,” said Isaac. “Mariah Lane. I hated when they killed you off.”

  “That makes two of us,” said Piper.

  She watched as he turned to stow a carton of eggs in the refrigerator. Piper noticed Isaac’s hand trembling as he reached in—the carton slipped and tumbled onto the floor, its contents spilling out.

  “What’s the matter with me?” he asked as he surveyed the cracked eggs. “What a klutz I am.”

  “No problem,” said Piper, glancing around for a roll of paper towels. “We can always get more eggs.”

  As they wiped up the gooey mess together, Piper thought Isaac seemed harmless enough. Still, she’d heard him saying he was glad that Shelley wasn’t around. What could Shelley have been threatening him with?

  Chapter 49

  The elevator doors opened at Sarasota Memorial Hospital. A woman with a cloud of dark brown hair and very pale skin, wearing a black sweater and slacks and carrying a large designer handbag, exited the elevator and scanned the wall in front of her for a clue as to which way to go. An arrow indicated that her mother’s room was to the right.

  Roberta Golubock winced as she saw the frail woman lying with her eyes closed in the hospital bed. A bandage covered her forehead, there were abrasions on her cheeks, and her lip was swollen to three times its normal size. Her mother’s thin arms rested on top of the cotton blanket. They were mottled with angry bruises.

  Quietly Roberta lifted a chair and placed it next to the bed. Glancing at her watch, she sat down, took out her iPad, and began reading. Half an hour later, her mother still hadn’t opened her eyes.

  Walking out to the nurses’ station, Roberta waited until one of them looked her way.

  “Hi, I’m Roz Golubock’s daughter. Has the doctor been in yet to see my mother this morning?”

  “Room 321, right?” asked the nurse as she steered the mouse and focused on the computer screen. “Yes, Dr. Robbins was in and saw her earlier.”

  “And?” asked Roberta.

  “He ordered a CT scan, which she’s already had. It was normal.”

  Roberta exhaled with relief. “Oh, that’s good news. So now what?”

  The nurse looked at the
screen again. “Well, he hasn’t ordered her release yet.”

  “How can I talk with him?” asked Roberta.

  “I’ll page him,” said the nurse.

  Turning away from the station, Roberta peeked into her mother’s room again and saw that she was now sitting up in bed.

  “Hey there, sleepyhead.” Roberta gave Roz a kiss on the forehead. “How are you, Mother?”

  Roz squinted. There was a puzzled look on her face.

  Roberta sat on the edge of the bed and gently took Roz’s hand. “Mother? It’s me. Roberta.”

  The older woman pulled away. “I don’t know you,” she said firmly. “Who are you?”

  In the hall outside her mother’s hospital room, Roberta listened intently as the doctor explained the situation.

  “It seems as if Roz is suffering from a retrograde amnesia,” said Dr. Robbins. “It’s the loss of preexisting memories, starting with the most recent ones. The fact that your mother didn’t recognize you or me would seem to suggest that she has a more severe case.”

  “Is this because she hit her head during the accident?” asked Roberta. “I thought the CT scan was normal.”

  “It was,” said Cryder, “but amnesia can occur without any anatomical damage to the brain. We call that a psychogenic amnesia. A traumatic situation that the individual wants to consciously or unconsciously avoid can trigger it.”

  Roberta’s brow wrinkled. “So the accident was so traumatic for my mother that her brain is blocking it out?”

  “Perhaps,” said Cryder. “Either the accident or something else. It’s hard to say.”

  “How long does this sort of amnesia last?” asked Roberta. “And what can be done about it? Should I try to remind her of people and events?”

  “You can if you want,” said the doctor, “but that hasn’t been shown to have any scientific bearing on recovering memory. Fortunately, memory usually returns on its own.”