Rosemary Run Box Set

by Kelly Utt

  “I understand.”

  “My last name is Bisset. My parents are Jean-Claude and Francine Bisset.”

  “Wow,” Sabine replied. “Sabine Bisset. I’m not sure what I was expecting. This day feels foreign and strange. I’ve always liked Fay. But I like the idea of having a real name with more tangible roots. I’ve longed for grandparents. You have no idea how much. I didn’t want to hurt your feelings because I’ve always known you did the best you could for me, but it means so much to know that I actually have more family out there.”

  “I can imagine,” Marcheline added. “I never wanted to deprive you of that. It’s made me sad every day.”

  “Do you have brothers or sisters? Do I have aunts or uncles? Oh! And cousins? Does Amelie have cousins? Do I?”

  “No, I don’t have any siblings. My parents moved over from France when I was young and I think they were too busy building their business to think about giving me a brother or sister. Sometimes I wished for a playmate when I was young. But it was all I knew and so I didn’t spend much time back then thinking about how it might have been different.” Marcheline continued to grip the steering wheel. She knew the hard questions were yet to come. “As for you, no living siblings. You know that. If I had a child out there, I’d move heaven and earth to keep them with me. The same as I did for you. The same as I’m doing for you right this very moment.”

  “I believe you, Mom,” Sabine confirmed. “You’re a good mom to me. Please don’t ever doubt that.” Sabine reached up and placed one hand gently on her mother’s shoulder, then let it rest there. “Go on.”

  “The rest of the story gets harder to tell,” Marcheline explained. “It’s an ugly part of my history that I don’t like to think about, much less talk about.”

  “Mom, it’s okay. Go on. I can handle it. And besides, I’m here to support you. I’ll help you through whatever it is we have to face together.”

  “Oh, my darling, those words are music to my ears,” Marcheline confirmed. “I appreciate them.” She took a deep breath. “Okay, so, I was a lonely teenager who felt out of place. My dark skin, curly hair, and French accent weren’t the norm in Evanston. They certainly weren’t the norm at my school, which was comprised of affluent kids who were mostly white. With my parents at work so much, I grew restless. A lot happened, but I ended up getting involved with a boy named Chester who lived across the city line. He lived in a rough part of town and was involved in some shady things. He was fundamentally a good guy, but he wasn’t able to escape the perils of the low-income, crime infested neighborhood that surrounded him. Mom told me never to associate with anyone like him, so doing so felt risky and dangerous. I guess I wanted a little excitement in my life. Either that or I wanted to numb my pain. I’m not sure which motivation was the one that compelled me. Maybe both. I started hanging out with Chester after school when my parents didn’t know. They thought I was at home doing homework like a good little girl, but instead, I was riding around in the passenger seat of Chester’s Cadillac, a car he had purchased with drug money.”

  “Mom!” Sabine said. “I never would have pictured that.”

  “Me neither,” Marcheline said, somberly. “I took a bad turn, to put it mildly.”

  “Is Chester the C.M. Loor the letter was addressed to?”

  “Yes,” Marcheline confirmed. “How long ago did you mail that letter, anyway?”

  “It was one day last week,” Sabine replied. “I don’t remember exactly. Why? What’s the big deal?”

  “It’s a huge deal. But ultimately, I take responsibility for writing the letter and for not destroying it. I wish you hadn’t gone through my things. I really wish you hadn’t mailed that letter without my permission. Who does that, Sabine?”

  “I’m sorry, Mom. I really am. I was just so eager to find out about my father. I was looking through your things in the attic in the hopes of finding some evidence with his name on it. I’d asked you so many times and you refused to tell me anything, so I decided to take matters into my own hands, like I told you at lunch today.”

  “If we weren’t in such a mess, I’d admire your determination,” Marcheline said. “But yes, that’s my Chester. His dad received the letter, and I got a call at my office this afternoon from a private investigator hired by the family.”

  “What?” Sabine asked. “Why does a private investigator need to get involved over a letter? What in the world did it say, Mom?”

  “I never should have written it. I certainly never should have kept it. Maybe I could have written it and then burned it or something, I don’t know. But I wrote it… To apologize.”

  “Because Chester is my father, and you took me away from him?”

  “I wish it were that simple,” Marcheline explained. “I swear, Sabine. I truly wish it were that simple.”

  “Mom!” Sabine exclaimed, exasperated. “Why is it like pulling teeth to get this story out of you? Won’t you just tell me? Just, spit it out. What’s the worst that can happen?”

  “You have no idea.”

  Amelie cooed happily in the backseat as she chewed on a teething ring. The sun was setting over the mountains and they were getting hungry for more to eat.

  “Why don’t we continue this conversation after some dinner?” Marcheline asked. “I think it would be easier if my stomach weren’t growling. How about we stop for fast food? We’ll run in and out quickly, then eat in the car. It will be just enough time to stretch our legs, but hopefully, we won’t be there long enough to be caught on camera.”

  “Unbelievable,” Sabine muttered. Marcheline wondered why she had felt the need to use that word twice in one day. It seemed particularly cool and dismissive.

  “Come on, my darling. We’ve got to eat,” Marcheline said as she veered off an exit and peered forward over the steering wheel as she selected from the handful of fast food options. “What do you want? Chicken? Burgers?”

  “I really don’t care, Mom,” Sabine replied begrudgingly. “You choose. Like you’ve done for me my entire life.”

  12

  Back in Rosemary Run, Bill Henderson had arrived and set up camp at the Lazy Dayz Motel. It was a shady joint in an old area of town frequented by undesirables. Bill parked his red rental car out front, then went into his room and popped open in his laptop. He smoked a cigarette before getting down to business.

  Now that he had Marcheline’s name as a strong lead to go on, Bill knew the case would move along quickly. It had been nearly eighteen months since Norman Loor first hired him to find out if Chester had been wrongly convicted. A random lottery win from a scratch-off ticket had given Norman the means to pay for Bill’s services, but the case had stalled not long after it started.

  Things were finally going Bill’s way. The letter sent by Marcheline in which she apologized for having falsely accused Chester was a break no one had seen coming. It would have been easy enough for Bill to take the letter straight to the police. He had long-time contacts on the force who would have opened an investigation and notified the Loor family’s attorney. But Bill suspected there was more going on, and he didn’t want to spill the beans until he had a complete picture. It was his job to find out everything there was to know. He intended to turn every stone. He took pride in doing so on every case he investigated.

  As he stared at the blinking laptop screen, eager to get started now that he had set foot in town, Bill pulled out a notepad and pen from the desk drawer and begin making a list. First, he would go to Marcheline’s house. Her address on Jenny Lane was printed plainly in an Internet directory. It had only taken him a few clicks to find it. He knew she would probably turn him away and refuse to answer questions, if she opened her door at all. But it was worth a try. Bill would look for anything unusual on her property, and he’d assess her lifestyle and present situation. Based on the search results about her online, it appeared Marcheline had a lot to lose. And he knew from experience that people who have a lot to lose often have things to hide.

  Once he w
as finished scoping out Marcheline, Bill would move on to her closest family, friends, and associates. He’d learn about her from every angle, and would then use his instincts and experience to decide which avenues he should pursue most aggressively. He had already spoken to Marcheline at the winery along with her vice president, Rande. So, that was an obvious place for him to pursue further when they reopened in the morning. He Googled Rande and then read his bio and looked at his photo. The Maison du Vin website was thorough and made Bill feel like he already knew both Rande and Marcheline.

  What piqued Bill’s interest most of all was the fact that Marcheline appeared to have a daughter. Sabine Fay was the only other person with that last name listed in the white pages as residing in Rosemary Run, California. Jackpot. If Chester Loor had a long lost daughter, Bill intended to find out about it.

  13

  By the time Marcheline and Sabine got Amelie in and out of the fast-food restaurant, darkness had fallen. Exhaustion had set in from all the adrenaline that had been coursing through their veins. They ate their food as they continued south on the interstate, filling their bellies with chicken fingers, biscuits, and rice, then washing it down with soda. Normally, neither Sabine nor Marcheline would have consumed such low-quality junk food, but they were too far out of their element to be vigilant about their eating. Their worlds were turned upside down, and healthy food was the least of their worries on this particular day.

  For reasons Marcheline didn’t fully understand, Sabine stopped asking questions and instead balled up a sweatshirt and leaned her head on it to go to sleep. Amelie napped, too, so Marcheline drove in silence for hours that felt like days. Maybe Sabine had reached her limit for one day. Marcheline knew it would be especially hard for her daughter to go to bed tonight without Ryan. Being away from home would only make things worse. Marcheline figured the rest Sabine was getting would help her cope, so she let her daughter sleep while the car was moving. They traveled on, into the night, until finally arriving in Kingman, Arizona around midnight. The town was quiet as stars shined brightly overhead. Mountains in the distance gave it a cozy feel. Marcheline thought it might be a nice place to visit if she weren’t running from trouble. There was a stillness that spoke to her. The air was cool and clear.

  Marcheline located the truck stop Rande had described with no trouble. It was right off the exit and had a diner attached, exactly as he’d said. Both were open twenty-four hours. It looked like an older establishment, probably built several decades before and not remodeled since. The look had its charm. It reminded Marcheline of road trips with her parents taken when she was a kid. They had ventured to Wisconsin Dells several times each year, spending long weekends at a frontier-themed amusement park and stopping at truck stops along the way. She had never understood why her parents liked that vacation spot so well, although she guessed they’d had a fascination with the Wild West era of American history. Maybe they identified with the brave families who packed their belongings onto wagons and set out for a new life, much the same as they had done when they emigrated from Paris.

  Marcheline parked the Land Rover, then woke Sabine and asked her to remain alert while she went inside to find Carl. Her steps were short and quick as she hurried inside, wrapping her arms tightly around her body to keep warm.

  The clerk behind the counter seemed bored and unsatisfied as he stared blankly at the front door. He looked like he had seen little excitement that night. His eyes barely registered her presence when Marcheline opened the door and stepped inside.

  “Hello,” Marcheline said, her voice flat. She was nearly out of energy for the day. “I’m looking for a Carl Lowery. Is he here?”

  “Huh?” the man asked, dumbly. He picked up a dusty beige phone and dialed three numbers. Marcheline couldn’t see which numbers he had pressed, but she was suddenly filled with panic at the prospect of them being 9-1-1.

  “Who are you calling?” she asked nervously.

  After a pause, the man replied. “You want Carl, right?”

  Marcheline looked him over more closely. His name tag read Stu. She was leery and not sure if she could trust him. “Stu, is it?”

  “Yeah,” the man said.

  “Short for Stuart?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Stu, darling, I’ve been traveling a long way and I’m very tired. If you don’t mind, I’d appreciate your assistance finding Carl. If he isn’t here, it’s no problem. I’m happy to come back in the morning. I’ll just find a motel room nearby and be back when the sun rises.”

  “Do you want me to call him or not?” Stu asked, the receiver still held against his ear. It was obvious to Marcheline that he would not be a whole lot of help, but she knew better than to make an enemy out of him.

  “I do want to reach Carl,” Marcheline replied. “But I don’t want to wake him. Are you calling him at home? Or… Who are you calling?”

  “Hang on,” Stu said in a disgruntled voice as he set the receiver down on the counter without hanging it up. He stood, then ambled around and walked into a back room.

  Marcheline remained nervous with the phone off the hook and Stu out of sight. She had to be vigilant. For all she knew, he was summoning the authorities from a phone in the back that very moment, which might have been in addition to the 911 call just placed and still connected. She looked around quickly, scanning for security cameras. As she suspected, there were two in plain sight, pointed straight at her. Marcheline had to be very careful to not seem suspicious. She was wearing her hat, but it would have looked strange if she’d worn her aviator glasses this time of night. The hat provided some disguise, but not nearly enough. She had to act normal.

  A clock on the wall ticked loudly as the seconds went by, each one feeling like an eternity. Marcheline tapped a finger in the inside of her pants pocket as a small release of her nervous energy. It was all she could do to hold herself together. She needed to keep traveling south to evade Bill Henderson and anyone else who might come looking for her. Remaining still this long made her vulnerable. She didn’t like it.

  When she couldn’t stand it anymore, Marcheline picked up the receiver of the phone to listen in. She knew she’d be recorded on camera doing so, but decided it was worth finding out whether authorities were on the other end of the line. She placed the receiver to her ear, but heard nothing. The line was silent, apparently dead. Taking a breath of relief, she placed the receiver back on top of the phone where it belonged.

  As she continued to wait for Stu, she glanced out at the Land Rover where Sabine and Amelie were. The vehicle was parked in the shadows, so she couldn’t see what was happening inside, but the doors were closed and things seemed quiet. Only two other vehicles were nearby in the parking lot. One was pumping gas and the other was parked on the far side. A single, tall light shone from above, but it didn’t cover the entire property. All things considered, Marcheline felt safe. At least, for the moment.

  When Stu hadn’t returned after five minutes, Marcheline decided to go into the back and find out what he was doing. She walked around the counter, past the coolers that held sodas and beer, and she opened a door with a long, silver latch. She thought it might have been locked, but the latch loosened and allowed her entry without resistance. When the door swung open, there was Stu, leaning against the wall and smoking a cigarette. He wasn’t even holding a phone.

  “Stu!” Marcheline exclaimed. “I thought you were finding Carl for me.”

  “I wasn’t sure if you wanted me to or not, so I’m taking a smoke break,” Stu said, clueless.

  Marcheline wondered if Rande had known about this dimwit. She shook her head and sighed heavily. “Look, Stu,” she tried. “Will Carl be here tomorrow morning?”

  “Yeah. Usually. I think so,” Stu mumbled.

  “Fine,” Marcheline said. “Tell Carl that a friend of Rande’s will be here in the morning to see him. Can you do that? Can you remember? Rande is the name.”

  “Yeah, sure, lady,” Stu said. He didn’t sound convin
cing.

  Marcheline was frustrated. She had been hoping to change vehicles and get back on the road before stopping for the night. It wasn’t the end of the world to stay in a motel nearby. She had known it might go that way. But she wasn’t nearly as comfortable as she would have been if they’d been able to travel a little further. She used the restroom in the truck stop and bought a few bottles of water with cash before heading back out to the vehicle to talk to Sabine about their next move.

  When she returned to the vehicle, Sabine was wide awake and had Amelie on her lap in the passenger seat. The two of them were chatting away together, the baby seemingly unfazed by the disruption to her usual routine.

  “Well,” Marcheline began. “I was supposed to meet a man here who will help us get a different vehicle, but he won’t be in until the morning. The guy at the counter wasn’t much help.”

  “Okay, wow,” Sabine said. “I thought we were stopping here for the night, anyway. There’s a hotel right next-door. I didn’t know about the car thing.”

  “I guess this hotel is as good as any,” Marcheline replied. “It doesn’t have to be fancy. We just need a place to stay until morning when I can come back here and we can get the car. We will get back on the road after breakfast.”

  14

  As the clock ticked past midnight at the red bungalow on Songbird Lane in Rosemary Run, Ryan Martin had been missing his wife and daughter. Rande Floyd had gotten a message to him to say they’d left town under life and death circumstances, but Ryan couldn’t begin to imagine what those circumstances were. More importantly, he didn’t intend to let his wife and daughter go quietly or without a fight. They were everything to him. Ryan was a fiercely devoted husband and father. He would find a way to get to them.