He pulled out his cell phone to check the time. “I’d better get back out there.”
“Sure. If you think of anything at all, please give me a call.” I wrote down my number and handed it to him, then returned to the barstool and finished the soda in solitude, contemplating my next steps. Teddy returned to my end of the bar to offer a refill.
“Just the tab.”
He smiled. “On the house.”
Remembering what Ashley said about him being too generous, I set a five-dollar bill onto the bar and hopped down from the stool. “I insist.”
He picked up the money. “Thanks.”
“One more question. Did you ever see Vince and Ashley outside of Wizards? I mean, did you socialize with them other than here?”
His straight-faced expression belied a disquieting hesitation. But then something on the other side of the room caught his attention, changing his bearing dramatically. The amiable young bartender momentarily morphed into a scowling, hostile being. I turned to follow his gaze but was distracted when I saw Brooks walking directly toward me.
“Hey, Ted. This one giving you trouble?” His tone jovial. He’d probably recognized the Miata and decided to look in on me. No doubt he remembered the last time he saw me here.
“Nope. Cassie’s cool.”
“No argument there.”
“Hi, Chuckles,” I said for his ears only.
Unexpectedly, he winked instead of blushing angry. “Hello, Cassandra.”
“You need something?” Teddy asked in a clipped tone.
“Just thought I’d check in, have a beer before heading home for the evening. But maybe tonight’s not the best time, huh? Forget the beer.” He looked down at me. “Join me for a little supper at the Whale Rock Diner?”
I glanced at Teddy, who was drawing a beer from the tap for another customer but aiming a chilly glare at Brooks. I’d like to find out what that was all about, but right now I had other pressing matters on the table.
“Why don’t you come out to the house instead?” I suggested.
“Oh?” Brooks’s left brow lifted in a randy twitch.
“Down boy. I have something important to discuss with you, and there are too many curious ears at the diner.”
“Sounds intriguing.” He rubbed his chin. “All right, I’m in.”
I followed Brooks through the crowded bar and, before passing through the door, turned back and gave Teddy a little wave. He nodded, and I was glad to see the scowl had been replaced by his usual cheerful grin.
“How ’bout I make a quick stop at Panda Gardens for takeout?” Brooks suggested as we walked to my car.
“Perfect. You know what I like.”
“Veggie Moo Shoo. Four pancakes. Plenty of hoisin sauce.”
“And extra fortune cookies for Whistler,” I called out to him.
On the drive home, the cruiser not far behind me, I weighed the pros and cons of revealing everything to Brooks. Not that I thought he’d sit on the information, but first I’d have to read his reaction to the misplaced evidence and the status change of the case before divulging the additional evidence I’d uncovered.
I may have given up on Daniel, but I hadn’t abandoned my mission to find out what happened to Ashley and Vince. And it certainly wouldn’t hurt to have someone who knew the workings of the law on my side. Still, I wasn’t convinced Brooks could seriously buy into my theories. If he did and was game for the challenge, I’d at least know I was dealing with someone trustworthy, which would be a refreshing change.
* * *
Never having mastered the art of chopsticks, I used my fork to stab a chunk of sesame chicken from Brooks’s plate. “You weren’t going to eat that, were you?”
“I guess not.” He knocked back the last of his Tsingtao. “So what was it you wanted to tell me that you couldn’t risk having anyone else overhear?”
“I doubt anyone would care about the subject matter. I just prefer not to toss the gossip mongers any bait.”
A look of astonishment contorted his features. “This from the woman who has tossed out some juicy lures of her own recently?”
“I haven’t a clue what you’re talking about.”
“Then you, my friend, live in a fantasy world. But go ahead and pretend that your rendezvous with the mysterious Agent Benjamin aren’t stirring up a buzz around The Rock.”
I felt my whole being grow warm with indignation. I spoke deliberately in an attempt to keep the irritation from my tone. “They. Were. Business. Dinners.”
“If. You. Say. So.” He parroted and reached for a fortune cookie. “Here you go, Whistler. Let’s see what your fortune says. Anger begins with folly and ends with regret. Ooh. I think this cookie was meant for someone else.”
Fortunately, Brooks had sensed the boundary he was nudging and changed the subject. “Would I be correct in assuming this little meeting has something to do with your missing tenants?”
“The FBI is not giving their due diligence to the case.”
“Specifically?”
I explained about the priority status change and the missing evidence.
His eyes narrowed.
“And what would all this have to do with me?”
I fiddled with the last fortune cookie wrapper, not having the courage to meet his skeptical gaze. “I thought you might have a local interest in reopening the investigation. You know, the small-town boys showing up the big-city guys.”
“I’m not sure I can help you there.”
It wasn’t a definite no, so I remained quiet while he continued to chew on my suggestion.
He leaned back in his chair. “It was made very clear to me who was in charge and that my involvement was no longer needed or wanted. Besides, I was never made privy to the aspects which placed the case under federal jurisdiction.”
“A missing person’s case wouldn’t normally be handled by the FBI?” I asked.
“Not unless there was a federal correlation.”
“Like what?”
“It could be as simple as a family link to someone of interest to the Bureau. Quite possibly the connection didn’t pan out, which would diminish interest for pursuing the case further.”
“That stinks. Why didn’t you tell me this earlier?”
“You were so smitten with Mr. FBI I didn’t think you’d hear me. And if you did, you’d just get angry with me for interfering.”
I was considering a scenario in which Daniel might have engineered the situation to allow his involvement in the case to continue for my benefit. I so wanted to give him the benefit of the doubt and to believe his feelings for me had that much influence. But now I felt his abandonment of the cause had pretty much doused that possibility.
“Are you forbidden to work on the case?” I asked.
He tilted back further and was gazing toward the ceiling.
“Even when you’re off duty?” I persisted. But still there was no response, so I reminded him, “You did look into the pawnshop receipt.”
Finally, he shook his head. “What did you have in mind? You want me to pick up where the Feds left off? Just like that?” He snapped his fingers. “Well that’s not the way it works. They have all the files, so I’d be starting from scratch.”
“Lost the files,” I reminded him. “What if I told you they don’t have everything?”
“Withholding evidence is a crime, Cassandra.” It was always Cassandra when I was in trouble.
I shrank back from the rebuke. “I was about to tell Daniel, uh, Agent Benjamin, but he told me that there were no additional clues to follow, so the case wouldn’t be worked on until they found a new lead to pursue.”
I began closing up the cartons of Chinese food.
“And you didn’t think it was a good idea to tell him you had something new for his team to pursue?”
“I was angry. And I didn’t trust they were properly handling the evidence I’d already given them. Besides, Daniel’s been reassigned, and I don’t know who’s in charge
of the case now. Not to mention it’s a good thing I didn’t give him everything because now it’s all missing.”
How could Brooks argue with that? He stood and walked to the refrigerator for a second beer, popped the top, and took a long chug.
“So, what do you have?”
“Oh, Chuckles.” I placed my clasped hands against my heart. “I knew you’d help.”
He pointed a finger of warning. “I am not making any promises until I know everything. And I do mean everything. Understood?”
“Understood.”
“Okay then.” He returned to his seat across from me. “Let’s hear what you’ve got.”
“First let me show you this sequence of knots on the rope.” I proceeded to illustrate the various knots. “It begins with an Ashley stopper. This is a thief knot, followed by a half hitch. But I don’t think Vince was using this rope to practice sailing knots, because look at these next three. I haven’t a clue what they are and I know my sailing knots.”
“You think it’s a code?” He sounded doubtful.
“It’s what I hope it is.”
After showing Brooks the rope, the letter, and all my research notes, I’d convinced him to join me on my quest.
“Why do you have these?” He held up the copies from the Hilliard House check-in book for the days before Vince and Ashley checked out.
“I thought I might contact people who were staying there at the same time as Ashley and Vince. But they wouldn’t give me the contact information.”
“Why is this name circled?” He squinted to read the handwriting. “Henry Beamer?”
“Remember telling me something had prompted them to check out early?”
He nodded.
“And then I told you how they’d seemed concerned about someone from upstate New York?”
“Yeah?”
I pointed to the circled name. “You can make out part of this guy’s address. He’s from Albany and he checked in the night before Ashley and Vince checked out in such a rush.”
“Okay. I’ll check this guy out.” Brooks began to gather up all the items spread out on the table.
I grabbed the rope before he had a chance to add it to the rest of the evidence. “Do you absolutely have to take this?”
“Afraid I’ll lose it too?” He was annoyed.
I had to admit the possibility made me anxious, but there was more to it. I fingered the rope before responding.
“I always carry it with me. It helps me keep faith.” I held the rope to my chest. “I truly believe there is some sort of message here.”
“How do you expect me to help you figure out what the message is if I don’t have the rope?”
“Let me show you.” I flipped through the notes I’d copied for him. “I’ve listed the names of all the knots in the same order they’ve been made on the cord, and here are the illustrations I’ve downloaded.” Vince had never returned Papa’s book so I’d had to resort to the internet.
Brooks took a look at my descriptions. “It would help to actually have the rope.”
“What if I made a duplicate for you?”
He pulled a face. “Like the one you used to deceive Agent Benjamin?”
“But I wouldn’t be deceiving you.”
“True.” He hesitated; then, “Okay. How quickly can you make a copy for me?”
I looked down at the knotted line in my hands but said nothing.
He let out a scoffing snort. “That’s another copy, isn’t it?”
I nodded. “It helps me to duplicate the knots in trying to work out the code.”
“If there is a code.”
“Either way, I need to hang on to the original.” I pleaded with my friend.
Brooks issued one last warning. “If I find out you’re keeping more information from me—anything at all—you’re on your own. You have exactly one chance.”
“Okay. I get it.”
Whistler started whining, prompting a glance at the captain’s wheel clock. “I didn’t realize how late it was. He needs to go out.”
“And I need to head home.”
Brooks waited with me on the porch while Whistler completed his final shrub-watering duty of the day.
“I’ll get started tomorrow. I know a guy who might be able to identify some of those other knots, and I’ll see what I can come up with on college bird mascots. Plus I have an assignment for you too.”
“Whatever you need.”
“Think back to the last few days before Vince and Ashley disappeared. Try to remember anything out of the ordinary, something they may have done or said that seemed strange or unusual to you. Write it all down for me.”
“Will do. What else?”
“I hear you have some paintings to finish up in the next couple of days for your exhibit.” He was leaning against the porch post, arms crossed casually.
“You’ve been talking to Lu?”
“Among others.” With only the light of the moon illuminating his face, I couldn’t read his expression but could guess to whom he was referring.
“Why does Zoe hate Whale Rock so much?” Figuring he was part of the inner circle, I saw no harm in asking. I waited for an answer, but it wasn’t forthcoming.
“Why won’t she come home?” I placed my hand on his arm.
He exhaled a mild grunt of dismay and stepped away, releasing himself from my grasp.
“It’s a long and thorny story, and I’ve got an early morning.”
“Maybe another time?” I said hopefully.
“A little advice, Cassie. Leave the buried past where it is. Digging up old secrets won’t be in anyone’s interest, including your own. Believe me when I say you’ll regret what you unearth. You will hate how it changes you.”
After Brooks drove off, I reached for the phone to call Zoe, but thought better of it. I remembered having silenced the ringer earlier and turned it back on to check the incoming history. No messages, but eleven missed calls from Daniel, the last one just before midnight.
Good! Let him wonder where I was at this late hour. I felt a sense of empowerment, though it was hard to ignore the compelling whiff of caramel stalking me through the house.
No, I will not call him.
“Come on Whistler. It’s way past our bed time.” My new canine sidekick curled himself up at the foot of my bed and within moments was sleeping peacefully.
I rolled my tired body under the down comforter, craving the oblivion of dreams, but it was another unkind night. Sleep was elusive, and the hours crept at an interminable pace. As the sun broke through the early morning clouds, Brooks’s words were still reverberating in my head. Leave the buried past where it is. You will hate how it changes you.
I could not dismiss the stern caution against unearthing the past. I wasn’t certain my fragile sense of self could bear the burden of any more regrets. But how could I leave the past alone when the mysteries of my family persisted? What, if anything, could dispel the enduring curse lurking like an ominous shadow over the Mitchell family tree? Which would win the battle, my desire to unravel family secrets or an inherent instinct for self-preservation?
The dilemma continued to gnaw away at me.
20
Early October ~ four weeks following the disappearance
I was awakened by sirens. The curtains were billowing, and the breeze was cool, but the sheets were soaked through, and my body burned hot. I raced to the window, and though the alarms were still sounding, I could not see the fire truck. In a panic, I made a run for the stairs, but my foot became stuck under the edge of the area rug, flinging me forward and landing me back atop the bed. The siren was so close now, like it was coming from inside. As I shook free of the remnants of a nightmare, it finally came to me what the culprit was, and I retrieved my still ringing cell phone from under one of the pillows.
“I’m here,” I gasped, not bothering to check the caller ID.
“Cassie?” When I heard Zoe’s voice I began to sob.
“What is
it, honey?”
It took some moments to compose myself, and my sister waited patiently for me to calm down, though tremors of fear were evident in her murmurs of reassurance.
“The lighterman,” I finally managed. It was all I needed to say.
“Just a dream.” Zoe’s tone was soothing and kind.
“A nightmare! The same nightmare,” I reminded her, grabbing a towel from the bathroom and mopping the perspiration from my neck and face.
“Still?” She would be remembering the many nights I’d awakened screaming during my childhood. “I thought you’d outgrown them.”
How do you grow out of something your subconscious will not release?
“They don’t occur as frequently as when I was a kid,” I said to allay her worries.
“I guess, as we mature, we must be able to exert some control over those buried memories, huh?”
We? Buried memories? “You had nightmares too?”
“Yeah.” It was nearly a whisper.
“I didn’t know.” Brooks’s severe warning flickered into my mind, but I pushed it aside. “Zoe? Can I ask you something?”
“About the dreams?”
“I’m not sure if there’s a connection.” I sat on the bed and wrapped myself in the comforter because now I was cold. “Why won’t you come home?”
“Whale Rock is no longer my home.” Her tone had chilled. “And I don’t think this is a good topic for discussion, Cassandra.”
“Let me just ask, and if you don’t want to answer, we’ll leave it at that. Okay?”
There was a moment’s hesitation before she relented. “All right, ask me then.”
“I know you’re not coming east for the exhibit.”
“That’s not a question, but I presume you want to know why I can’t make it?” She began her usual spiel. “Well, Oliver has—”
I cut her off. “There always seems to be a convenient excuse, either a conflict with Oliver’s work or your board obligations. I understand you’re busy people, but I don’t believe it’s possible that for nearly twenty years, each and every time I invite you, something else more important than coming to see me is happening in your life.” I shamed her into silence. “My question goes much deeper than scheduling issues. What is it about Whale Rock that keeps you from returning?”
House of Ashes Page 19