The other two men answered in turn. One of them was tall and thin. He was wearing a bow tie, black glasses, and a handlebar mustache. He smiled, showing off his gold tooth. Then he winked and gave me a salute. He wasn’t a person you could easily forget. It was the same man I had seen in Vessie’s café.
Then the original guy spoke up. “Are you Hayden, then?”
“Yes, I am.” I held my keys up as if proof of my identity. “The new editor of the Observer.” I felt myself blush when I said that, like I was an imposter. But it was true! This was part of my new identity.
“Welcome to the business district,” said mustache man. “I’m Lester. Pharmacist.” He pointed to the pharmacy across the street. He reached out, and we shook hands.
“Vito,” said a heavyset man wearing overalls. “Mine’s the hardware store just down the block. And this here’s Archibald.” He gestured to the third man.
“It’s my shop next door,” said Archibald, the man sitting on the bench. “Time Travels On. Antiques.”
I leaned over and shook his hand. “That’s an interesting store name.”
“Was my wife’s idea. She’s gone now, but I kept the shop name.”
“Oh, I’m sorry for your loss,” I said.
Archibald laughed. Then all three men snickered, and Vito spoke up. “She ain’t dead, just gone outta his life. Good riddance to her. She’s a menace.” The other two nodded.
“So, you’re reviving the old paper, huh?” Vito asked me, thankfully changing the subject.
“I am. Though it will be online now, instead of print.”
He nodded. “Makes sense. Bring us into the twentieth century.”
“Uh,” Archibald interrupted, “you mean the twenty-first century, buddy.”
“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” said Vito, waving away the comment. “Modern times, modern paper.” He squinted his eyes at me. “You gonna start being all nosy and poking into everyone’s business now?”
“Dang, Vito!” said Lester, the pharmacist. “That’s rude, man.”
I was feeling prematurely grateful for his defense when he finished his thought.
“Poking into people’s business is the editor’s job.” He snorted, as if proud of his joke. They all started snickering again.
“So, girly,” said Vito. “When’s the first issue of this here online paper?”
I cringed at the ‘girly,’ but answered anyway. “I’m guessing it will take a month to get the first issue out. Lots to do in the meantime.” I dropped a subtle hint that I needed to get to work. They totally missed it.
Archibald scratched his bald head (yeah, I thought it was funny that his name reflected his appearance) and spoke up. “You’re lucky to snag the job. The newspaper’s been closed up for near on a year.”
“Has it been that long?” asked Lester, twisting his old-fashioned mustache like a villain in a black-and-white movie.
“Only ’bout six months,” said Vito. “Cuz I remember it covered that break-in at the ferry office.”
Lester looked annoyed and spoke up. “You mean the supposed break-in.”
Ah, a clue? I’d have to go back to the old issues and look up the ferry office break-in. I wondered if it was related to the current case.
Vito sat down on the bench next to Archibald, crossed his legs, and laid his arm across the back of the seat. He looked like he was ready for a nice, long, comfortable visit. I was glad to meet fellow business people, but I needed to eradicate myself from this chat fest so that I could start my research on the ferry captain and Gladstone.
“Livin’ up at the Caldwell place now, right?” asked Archibald.
So much for removing myself from the conversation. I opened my mouth to answer three seconds too late.
“Course she is!” said Vito. “She’s a Caldwell. And them folks take care of their own. They’re tight-knit, those Caldwells.”
Lester laughed at that like it was some big joke. It didn’t seem funny to me.
“Well, it’s been great meeting you guys, I need to . . .”
Cut off at the knees by Lester. “Been up to Vessie’s yet? It’s just around the corner and she makes a mean Reuben sandwich.”
“I could go for a Reuben,” said Vito.
“Don’t think she serves lunch stuff this early,” Archibald said.
“I could for an omelet, then.”
The three stood up.
“You comin’?” Vito looked at me expectantly.
“Thank you for the invite, but I have a lot of work to do. Better get to it!” I smiled brightly to take the sting out of turning down their invitation.
“Next time, then. Good day, ma’am,” said Archibald, tipping an imaginary hat. Then the three of them ambled down the sidewalk toward Vessie’s Café.
The newspaper office embraced me with its quiet, library-like ambiance. I felt comfortable here, perhaps because of my love of libraries mixed with my journalism background. I stowed my purse and keys under the front counter and took stock of the office.
Before I started digging through the previous issues, I thought I’d look for a directory or list of topics covered. I booted up the computer and typed in the password that my father had provided: ObservPaperPW1. If they needed other passwords, I’d bet they’d be the same, but ending in PW2 or PW3.
The desktop files were pretty much what you’d expect in a newspaper office. Everything was divided up into four major categories: editorial, production, circulation, and advertising. I opened the editorial section and scanned the file names. I found one named Headlines. A good place to start.
I opened the file and found that the headlines were grouped by year, so I opened the most recent year. I grabbed a notepad and made a list of topics to search:
Ferry Captain / Nakita Morozova
Destiny Falls Ferry
Gladstone
Ferry break-in / Local break-in
The Great Divide
I searched each topic and wrote down the dates of any matches. I ended up with quite a few. Nothing on Gladstone or The Great Divide, though. I shut down the computer and started my search of the newspaper drawers, pulling out issues that matched my topic dates.
My focus was so intense that I didn’t even hear someone come in until the front door clicked shut behind him. Startled, I looked up to see my father standing near the counter. I decided my next purchase would be a bell for the doorknob. I wondered if the hardware store had them.
“Thought I might find you here,” he said. “How’s it going?”
“Great! The previous editor was very organized. Makes it easier to find my way around.”
“That’s good.” He nodded at my stack of newspapers. “Planning on some light reading?”
“The best way to get familiar with the newspaper, right?”
He nodded in agreement. “Any questions I can help with?” he asked.
“I’m just getting into things, but I’m sure I’ll have plenty. I’m wondering when I’m expected to have the first issue out?”
My father explained that there was no actual deadline, and they trusted I’d know how to put things together since I already ran an online magazine. He said that everyone was happy to know that the paper would be up and running again. He felt that a small town benefited from the cohesiveness of a local paper. Word on the street was that people were excited about it. That was good—a paper needs advertising, so I hoped the community businesses would be up for buying ads.
“Want some help?” my father asked. “I have the rest of the day open.”
“I’d love that, thank you!” I slid the paper with my topic list under my stack since I wasn’t ready to divulge any information about the box, fearing the warning of danger to my family. I asked if he’d mind checking the computer and helping me put together a list of businesses who might purchase advertising. After all, that’s usually the first order of business for a small periodical. No ads—no paper.
“Would you like some tea?” I asked.
He nodded. “Um-hmm.” Just like me, he was quick to get to work. He was already reading something on the screen. I made us both a cup of tea in the small convenience kitchen, then sat on the floor in front of the newspaper drawers.
My father sat at the desk and was clicking away at the computer, while I continued to look through the past issues. We enjoyed small talk and some companionable silence. A few hours passed while we worked. It was nice to be connecting with my father like this. Working together seemed to bring us closer.
We took a break for a dinner, grabbing takeout from the deli just a block away and eating in the small park. We talked about the paper, and he also offered more tips about working with my camera. In a new relationship, it always helps to have a common interest, and I felt this could be it.
The conversation turned away from work and we talked about life in general.
“You seem to be settling in nicely here. Like you fit right in. Not just to the family, but with the town too.”
“That’s true,” I said. “It feels like home here. There’s just something about it, almost like it was always here for me, waiting.”
“Well, I for one kept your place open and hoped one day you’d be here. Not to be entirely selfish, but now that I have you here, I’ll do everything I can to keep you!” He paused. “Well, that sounded sinister!” He laughed. “I didn’t mean it that way!”
“Bwahaha!” I laughed in a villainous voice. That got him laughing even more.
When we finally stopped our laughter, he spoke up. “I was thinking, Hayden. I’d love it if you called me Dad. Father is way too formal for me, and I think Leonard makes it sound like I’m the guy next door,” he chuckled. “That is if you’d be comfortable with it?”
At that moment, I felt it. An emotion that was different from any other in my life. A father-daughter bond that was growing and solidifying. And yes. It felt right.
“I’d love that,” I said. “ . . .Dad.”
He got up from the bench and put his arm around me for a fatherly hug. I felt we’d pivoted in our relationship, and now, for the first time in my life, I had a Dad.
We finished up our meal and took a leisurely stroll down the street. It was just getting dark and the streetlights were coming on. Businesses were lit up from inside, looking warm and cozy as we passed. The whole downtown had a soft, almost holiday-like glow to it.
We headed back to the office, and my dad offered to stay and finish up the work we’d started. (Yeah, my dad. How cool is that?)
“You sure it’s not too late?” I asked.
“Nah. I’m good. Could use some tea though.”
This made me wonder if I had inherited my dedicated work ethic—and my love of tea—from him. I could go for hours when I was focused on a project. I made us both tea and brought it back to the desk.
He located the information on the previous advertisers. I noticed that the hardware store, the antique shop, and the pharmacy were all listed.
“I met three of the local business owners this morning,” I told him.
“Really? Who’d you meet?”
I told him about Archibald, Lester, and Vito. He laughed. “Well, you couldn’t have picked a more unusual trio to start with.”
“Yeah. They’re quite the characters,” I agreed. “They seemed interested and supportive of the paper, though. I feel like I can approach them about ads.”
“There you go! Your first set of contacts. That’s my girl!”
I felt a rush of pride when he said that. I had always had plenty of praise from Nana and Gran, yet having him compliment me was a whole new kind of joy.
Both of our phones pinged text messages at the same time. I glanced at my screen and saw a message from Axel.
Han in hiking accident.
Just got him to the hospital.
My father’s face drained of color and registered the shock and panic that I was feeling. He received the same message. I grabbed my purse and keys, locked the door, and we drove to the hospital.
We arrived at the hospital to find Eleanor, Phillip, and Axel in the waiting area. Axel was pacing the room anxiously.
I reached out and gently touched Axel’s arm. “How’s Han doing? What happened?”
“He went hiking up to Twin Falls Lake early this morning. He always leaves his hiking itinerary with one of his sisters. When he didn’t return on time, she gave Jaxson a call. Han is experienced. He’s quick and responsible. When he didn’t text or call, we knew something wasn’t right.”
“Jax and I booked it up to the lake. We found him unconscious at the base of a cliff. Jax called in the park’s rescue helicopter, and they brought us in. Han is still unconscious, but stable.”
“Can we see him?” I asked.
“Family only right now. His sisters are in there with him. We were just waiting for an update from the doctors.”
Tears filled my eyes, and I felt my throat tighten. I could barely swallow, and I couldn’t speak. I hoped with everything in me that Han would be okay.
22
My first thought upon waking was of Han. It hit me hard. I put my hand to my stomach and waited for the nausea to pass and my breathing to return to normal. The soft, warm feeling of the cat huddle lying close to my back was soothing. I willed my body to relax.
When we’d left the hospital last night, Han had still been unconscious. The doctor told us it was normal to lose consciousness for six hours or more after a traumatic head injury, so I hoped there was good news this morning. Was it too early to text Axel for an update? I hoped not, but I needed to know. I reached over the sleeping cat heap and snatched my phone.
Good morning Axel. I hope
I didn’t wake you. Any
news about Han?
Morning Sis! No worries. I was up.
Han regained consciousness in the
middle of the night. He’s woozy and
can’t recall what happened. But
doctor says he looks good.
Oh! Thank God! I’ve been
so worried.
Me, too. I’m going to stop by
and see him later. Want to come?
Yes, please!
Leaving at 10:00. Afterwards
meeting up with Jax for lunch
at Vessie’s. Sound good?
Sounds wonderful! See you
at 10.
I slipped out of bed and got dressed, then peeked into the yoga room mirror. The depressing reflection was of the yoga room. The disappointment left a heaviness in my heart. I sent Luna a brief text.
Hey, friend. I hope you’re okay.
I know you were pretty shocked.
It’s a weird situation. Text or
email when you can. Would
love to explain what you saw.
I held my breath and stared at the screen, hoping the satellite would allow it to pass. The text was sent! Now I hoped Luna would read it and reply. I sat down on a yoga mat and waited, but there was no immediate response. I’d let her settle with this for a while, and if she didn’t answer, I’d try her again tomorrow.
I opened my photos and tapped on the folder connected to my Observer camera. I got a lump in my throat looking at the pictures of the owl that Han helped me with. I enjoyed that time with him so much. It was spooky to think that the next time he went hiking there he would have a terrible fall. It would be good to see him today with my own eyes.
I scrolled back in the photos and came across the ones I had taken on my first day with the camera. The day that the mail carrier had been assaulted. I barely remembered snapping these pictures. I’d been so upset seeing him lying on the ground.
I looked more closely at the photos now. In one picture I noticed a spot of bright red in the middle of all the landscaping. The flowers that day were in shades of blue, yellow, and white. There were no red flowers anywhere else in the picture. Just that one bright red spot.
I enlarged the photo. The red was not flowers. It was hair! It was the head of a short, heavy pe
rson, and he was walking around to the side of the house. Actually, since he was slightly blurry compared to the rest of the picture, it was more like he was running. I enlarged further and saw the backside of a second person in the photo, just in front of him. And that person was very tall, extremely large, and appeared to be wearing a greasy-looking ferry uniform.
I pressed my fingers over my mouth to cover my gasp and tried to control my panic. This meant that Kerbie and one of the mechanics were at Caldwell Crest that day. From the back they looked the same, so I couldn’t tell who this was. Or was the other mechanic there also, out of camera range? What reason would they have to be there? Did they attack the mail carrier and dig through the mail? Were they looking for the box that arrived later that day?
I had been keeping it secret because of the captain’s warning of danger to me and my family. Were these men the danger? I dropped my phone on the mat and tried hard to corral my wild thoughts. Now what? I couldn’t keep hiding these secrets, could I? Should I? Perhaps this was evidence of the attackers from that day. Were they also the ones responsible for the captain’s death?
Now I was just working myself up into a frenzy. I needed to focus my thoughts and make the right decisions.
The box. Perhaps it held more clues to what was going on. I grabbed my phone and sent the photos to my e-mail to make sure I had a backup copy. Then I sent a second copy to my Natural Living e-mail, just to be sure. Perhaps I should share the photos with Jaxson today? The photos weren’t part of the box. I could ask him to keep it in confidence. If he knew, but told no one else, would that lead to danger . . . or to an arrest?
I dragged the box out of the closet and placed it in the middle of my bedroom floor. It seemed critical now to get a handle on what was in those files. If this box was what they were after, there must be something of great importance in here. But what exactly? Now that I’d learned more about Gladstone, I suspected it had to do with that forbidden island, the magical lakes, and the fountain of youth.
The Disappearance of Emily: Destiny Falls Mystery & Magic Series Book 2 Page 11