Dead of Summer

by Sherry Knowlton

  After he signed off, John turned to Alexa. “Are you sure you’re OK? You’re bleeding.”

  “It can wait. I need to get to my mom.” Alexa wiped at her eyes with the tattered hem of her shell.

  “Tell me what happened. Why the hell would the guards at a child welfare facility shoot at you and your mother? I thought there was a big party there tonight.”

  Alexa closed her eyes and sighed. “I’m not one hundred percent sure, but I worked out some things while I was trudging up the mountain. I’ll tell you what I think is going on. There are two possibilities.”

  “Two?” John kept his eyes glued to the asphalt as they screamed down the winding mountain road.

  “First possibility: My mom witnessed what she now believes to be a murder—or what led up to the murder—at Woodstock.”

  “Woodstock? You mean the hippie Woodstock back in the sixties?” John echoed in a tone of disbelief.

  “Yes. She’d suppressed the details for more than forty years, but they came back tonight when she saw Jack Nash and Quinn Hutton together at the party.”

  “Quinn Hutton wasn’t even born in 1968 or 1969—whenever it was.”

  “You’re right. I’m talking about Quinn Hutton’s father. Same name. Except he’s the third. Quinn Hutton III.” Alexa struggled to explain.

  “Hmm. I can’t imagine what the father would be like.”

  “I didn’t know you knew Quinn.”

  “Yeah, I’ve met the professor.” John’s voice was flat. He became more animated as he considered Alexa’s information.

  “OK, I might buy that two killers wanted to shut your mom up. But, unless she actually saw the homicide, it would be difficult to prosecute after all these years. Even though there’s no statute of limitations on murder. What’s the second possibility?”

  “That there’s something bad going on at Children of Light. I’ve been noticing bits and pieces that haven’t felt quite right about the organization. But I didn’t connect the dots.

  “A frightened girl who told me they were going to send her away. An expanded overseas adoption program when many countries are shutting down adoptions to the U.S. The most damning thing happened in Kenya. I saw Jack Nash transporting a group of African refugees, teenagers really. Somehow, the whole thing had a wrong feel to it. Tonight, when I confronted Jack about being in Africa, he denied it. I suspect he’s involved in human trafficking.”

  “Jack Nash? Isn’t he supposed to be a big philanthropist? He’s the guy who spoke at Melissa’s reception, right? On behalf of RESIST, which fights trafficking.”

  “Yes. I think he talks a good game. Hard as it is to believe, I’m convinced that Children of Light is a front for a sex trafficking operation. And I think Cecily Townes found out about it—and Jack had her killed. I wouldn’t be surprised if his organization is behind the death of Meg Wilson and the disappearances of those other missing girls and women.”

  “Do you have any evidence?”

  “Other than his guards trying to kill us? Not really, but that’s your job.” Alexa leaned back and closed her eyes, frantic about her mother.

  When John blew by the gatehouse, the entire area was alight with emergency vehicles. It looked like every state police vehicle in the area had been dispatched to the Nash estate. Several big trucks had powerful spotlights trained on the fields. A big, panel-van-type ambulance was lurching down the dirt road toward the main lane.

  “Mom,” Alexa cried.

  John drove toward the ambulance and brought his car to a stop at the edge of the dirt road. Evergreen trees lay toppled like fallen dominoes along the lane. John flagged down the ambulance before it turned toward the exit gate. The driver rolled down his window.

  “Do you have Susan Williams in there? What’s her condition?” Taylor yelled.

  “Yes, Susan Williams, the county commissioner. She’s lost a lot of blood and is in pretty bad shape. We need to get her into surgery, pronto.”

  John told the driver, “I’ve got her daughter, Alexa, here. She’d like to ride to the hospital with you folks.”

  The trooper ushered Alexa to the back of the emergency vehicle and, with a quick squeeze of her hand, helped her climb in. “We’ll take care of things here. I’ll check in with you later. I’ll need to take a formal statement.”

  Alexa gasped at the sight of her mother strapped into the gurney, IV tubes attached to her arm, temporary bandages covering her wound. Susan looked so insubstantial that Alexa felt her mother might vanish into the blinding white sheets.

  The ambulance turned on the siren and sped toward the hospital. Through a tiny back window, Alexa watched the kaleidoscope of red, blue, and amber lights flash behind them like distress beacons for her wounded mother. As the lights receded into the distance, Alexa held her unconscious mother’s hand and whispered, “Hold on, Mom. Stay with me. We’re almost at the hospital. Don’t let that goddamn Jack Nash and Quinn’s asshole father kill you, too.”

  Chapter Forty-two

  August 17, 1969

  I’ll let you be in my dreams if I can be in yours.

  Sukie and Nina slogged their way back to camp through ankle-deep mud in the fresh glimmer of early dawn. “It’s getting light. Any idea what time it is?” Sukie stopped. “Or I could look at my watch, right?”

  Nina said, “I bet it’s four in the morning.”

  “You’re right. Four-fifteen. We sure aren’t going to get out of here at noon. I think there are three or four more bands before Hendrix.”

  “At least we’ll avoid the traffic if we leave later.” Nina glanced around the field. “Although it looks like practically everyone left already. Most of the tents are gone.”

  “The Levi Bloom group is still here.” Sukie pointed toward the bread truck. “Hope they found Willow.”

  “They never came back to look for her or talk to JJ and Eskimo. She must have turned up.” Nina smiled. “That kid is a trip.”

  “It sounds like she has a pretty rough home life. Give her a few more years, and she might actually show up at the Hog Farm commune.”

  “I’m glad we came back here. Those guys can wallow in the mud for a few more hours to hear Jimi Hendrix, but I’ve had it.” Nina held up a mud-caked poncho with a disgusted look.

  “Me too. Right before we left, my poncho had sunk so deep in the muck I thought someone was going to have to dig me out. Hard to believe we decided to skip Hendrix.”

  “Cheryl made the right decision. She’s been warm and dry all night in her tent.”

  “But then we would have missed that new band. What was the name, Crosby, Stills and something?”

  “That song about Guinevere was beautiful.” Nina’s tone became wistful.

  When they reached the tents, Sukie shuddered. “I’m going to get out of these clammy clothes and catch a few hours sleep.”

  “Good idea.” Nina cocked her head in the direction of the stage. I’m not sure who’s playing now, but that’s not Jimi Hendrix.”

  Sukie could hear the music quite plainly. “I don’t recognize the band.” She giggled. “We can hear everything perfectly right here. Another excellent reason to come back.”

  As Nina headed toward her tent, she looked back over her shoulder at Sukie. “You many want to take those off before you go inside.”

  Glancing down at her jeans, Sukie recoiled. Thick, wet mud covered most of the pant legs starting about three inches below her knees. “Ugh.” Sukie wrinkled her nose at the smell as she carefully extricated each leg and spread the dirty jeans over the top of the tent to dry.

  Sukie awoke to the distinctive chords of one of her favorite Hendrix songs, “Foxy Lady.” It took a moment to register that she was at Woodstock, hearing Jimi Hendrix live. She bounced up to throw on some clothes, slipping into her last mud-free pair of jeans. Then she rolled out of the empty tent.

  Cheryl and Nina were sitting on the metal cooler with coffee mugs in their hands. Nina looked up. “He’s magnificent, isn’t he?”

&nb
sp; “And we can hear the music plain as day.” Cheryl beamed.

  Sukie filled a cup with coffee and rummaged for some dry cereal. “Trix is the only thing left?” She frowned.

  “The little cereals come in packs of eight. Apparently, no one likes Trix.” Cheryl scooted over on the big ice chest to give Sukie some space.

  The girls sat in silence and listened to Hendrix work his magic on the guitar. Sukie gasped when she recognized the first strains of “The Star Spangled Banner.” By the time he had finished and segued into “Purple Haze,” she was in tears.

  “Damn,” Nina exclaimed. “Have you ever heard anything like that?”

  “That was so far out.” Sukie jumped up in excitement but stopped in her tracks at Cheryl’s expression.

  “What’s wrong?” Cheryl’s look of shock reminded Sukie of a child who had heard her teacher swear.

  Cheryl whispered, “Is it legal to play the national anthem like that?”

  Nina rolled her eyes. “Of course. Are you afraid the police are going to arrest us for listening to a rock version of ‘The Star Spangled Banner’? Seriously, Cheryl.”

  “If they haven’t arrested us all for getting high, I think we’re safe from the music cops.” Sukie turned away to stifle a laugh and saw Levi Bloom making his way toward them.

  “Here comes Levi. It’s weird. He’s alone, without the usual flock of followers.” She took a few steps in his direction.

  “Levi. Are you getting ready to pack up?” Nina rose to join her friend.

  “When are you leaving?” Sukie asked. “I’d like to say goodbye to Willow.”

  Levi’s grim expression alarmed Sukie. He spoke in a tight voice. ”That’s why I’m here—to tell you about Willow.”

  “Tell us what? Is she still missing? Since we didn’t hear anything more, we thought she came back.” Nina glanced at Sukie in consternation.

  “No. We never found her. We spread out yesterday looking for her, but no luck. We even went to the hospital tent in case she’d gotten sick. She wasn’t there . . . they hadn’t seen her. I stopped over there again this morning.” Tears rolled down Levi’s face. “They told me that Willow’s dead.”

  “Dead?” Sukie protested. “She can’t be dead. She’s just a kid.”

  Nina and Cheryl both broke into sobs. “What happened? Was it some sort of overdose or a bad trip?” Nina wiped at her eyes and put an arm around Sukie.

  “A truck rolled over her sometime last evening. It happened on the far side of the woods. They brought the police in to investigate. The doctor said that they think Willow could have already been dead—before the truck. She was wrapped up in a blanket of some sort.”

  “Oh my God.” Sukie bent her head in grief. “I can’t believe such a beautiful little angel is dead.”

  “I hate this godforsaken festival.” Cheryl startled Sukie with her wail.

  Levi hung his head. “We are all so bummed out. Willow was a ray of pure light—we loved her. I should have never let her come up here with us. I feel so guilty for letting her wander around on her own.”

  Sukie put a hand on his arm. “That girl adored you, Levi. But it was pretty clear that she marched to her own tune. She was a free spirit.”

  “I have to get back to the truck. The police are doing an investigation and they’re coming to talk to us. Sukie, they want to talk to you, JJ, and Eskimo. You were the last people—that I know of—who saw her.”

  “JJ and Eskimo left yesterday. But we’ll be here for a couple hours at least. The boys still aren’t back from the concert.”

  “You ladies have kind hearts, letting Willow tag along after you. She was happy to have you as new friends.” Levi turned and took a few shuffling steps toward the bread truck.

  “Levi,” Sukie called after him. “What was Willow’s full name? Greta what?”

  “Greta Shapiro.”

  Sukie repeated the name, “Greta Shapiro. Our little Willow, dead at fourteen.” Then, it all hit her, and she broke down. Cheryl and Nina wrapped their arms around her until the three distraught girls formed a circle of tears.

  When the van pulled up in front of Sukie’s house in Carlisle, it took her a few minutes to register that she was home. The last ten hours had been a blur. Tearing down the campsite. Talking to two policemen who seemed to be just going through the motions in Willow’s death.

  The long ride from Bethel had been mostly silent. The boys were exhausted from spending the night at the concert. The girls were devastated by the news of Willow’s death.

  As the miles unfolded, Sukie tried to remember if she had actually seen Willow in JJ and Eskimo’s tent. Her memories of that night were still hazy, blurred by the pain of her migraine and Eskimo’s helpful Quaalude cure.

  “If I hadn’t been so out of it, I could have helped her when she stopped by our campsite. I could have even brought her into my tent to sleep. Maybe I could have saved her.” The what-ifs churned endlessly round and round her brain.

  Robbie turned to address Sukie in the back seat. “This is the end of the road for you. Don’t bother with the tents and all of that. We’ll bring everything over next weekend. Just grab your backpack.”

  Ben leaned over and kissed her. “Great weekend, babe. I know it’s a bummer, but don’t let this Willow thing bring you down. I’ll call you.”

  Sukie slipped out the door. “See you folks. Keep the faith.” Several minutes after the van had driven away, Sukie remained on the sidewalk, drinking in the cool evening air.

  “Pull yourself together,” she whispered. “Mom and Dad will want to hear everything about Woodstock. They’ve probably been worried sick about you. And they’ll totally freak out if you tell them about Willow.”

  Sukie raised tear-filled eyes to the starry sky and spoke aloud. “Farewell, little sprite. Knowing you was a gift.”

  With those words, Sukie locked Willow away in a small corner of her mind. Lifting her filthy backpack over one shoulder, she walked to her house and opened the front door.

  “Honey, we were so worried about you. We knew that you kids had prepared for the concert with tents and food. But when Walter Cronkite announced on the news that Woodstock was declared a disaster area, your father and I were beside ourselves.” Sukie’s mother rushed to hug her.

  Dad gave her an appraising look. “Clearly, you need a bath and some food. But are you OK?”

  Sukie managed a wan smile. “I’m tired, but I’m fine. Sorry I worried you. It was quite an experience.”

  Her mother held Sukie at arm’s length and asked, “Did you have a good time?”

  “Three days of peace and music from some of the greatest bands in the world? How could I not have a good time?”

  Chapter Forty-three

  “MOM, YOU’RE LOOKING BETTER.” Alexa walked straight to the bed and kissed her mother’s forehead.

  “Yes. I think they’re finally going to let me go home on Friday—assuming I continue to improve. We’re going to have to cancel our trip to Asia though. Dr. Benson says I’ll need at least two months to regain my strength.”

  “I’m not surprised.” Alexa squeezed her mom’s hand. “You were hanging on the edge when you came in here. After three weeks in the hospital, which is a long inpatient stay by today’s standards, you’ll be in no shape to go to the other side of the world. But, if you listen to the doctors and take it easy for a while, you’ll make a full recovery. Then you and Dad can fly off to whatever remote corner of the world you want to see next.”

  “How are you feeling, dear? Did you go back to the doctor to get your stitches out? I see you’re walking normally. Have your bruised feet healed?”

  “I’m fine, Mom. I’m back in the office full time. Lucky I could work from home for a while.” Alexa downplayed the after effects of her marathon flight for help in the Nash compound.

  “You’re here for the meeting with the state police?” Susan hit a button to raise the head of her hospital bed to an angle.

  “Yeah. Trooper Taylor s
aid that he and Trooper Cannon want to fill us in on their progress. I imagine they’ll want to talk about us both giving testimony when this goes to trial. Dad and Graham should be here in a few minutes. I drove separately because I need to stop by the auto body shop. I’m still hoping they can save the Land Rover, but it’s not looking good.”

  “So apparently I’m doing better than the car?”

  “Hello, dear.” Norris walked into the room and kissed his wife. Graham trailed behind him, legal pad in hand. A few minutes later, the two state police troopers joined them. Since this meeting had been cleared with the hospital, several extra chairs had been brought into Susan’s private room.

  John looked directly at Alexa, his warm brown eyes holding her gaze for a few seconds before he spoke. “Thanks for meeting with us. We wanted to brief you on our investigation and the charges that will be filed tomorrow. Mrs. Williams, please let us know if you begin to tire.”

  “I’m the only one with a bed here. I’ll be just fine, Trooper.”

  Trooper Cannon’s muscles rippled under his fitted jacket as he leaned forward in his chair with a serious expression on his face. “The investigation can be split into four parts. In the first, we’ll be filing charges against Jack Nash and Quinn Hutton III and the security guards for attempted murder, assault with a deadly weapon, and numerous related offenses. Those charges stem from the attack that wounded you, Mrs. Williams, and endangered your daughter. The second set of charges are extensive and relate to sex trafficking and Meg Wilson’s death.”

  John broke in. “Alexa, your theory was basically spot on. Children of Light does perform legitimate child welfare and juvenile delinquency services. However, the whole operation is basically a cover for a far-reaching sex trafficking scheme. They smuggled refugees into the country; they snatched kids off the street, locally and elsewhere. Although the foster care group homes, for the most part, seem on the up and up, they used those other buildings . . .” He looked at Cannon.