Mermaid Moon

by Colleen Coble

  He covered her hand with his. “Like I said, Mallory, I’ll do whatever it takes for us to be together.”

  Mallory’s hands shook as she filled the teakettle to prepare some chamomile tea. The owl hooting outside the window added to her sense of impending doom. She set the teakettle on the cooktop in the island and turned on the heat.

  No matter how hard she tried, Mallory couldn’t get DeAnn’s words out of her head. Maybe leaving here would be the best thing. Just pack up Haylie and Carol and get back to Bangor. Let Kevin get on with his life. She hadn’t intended to disrupt anything.

  She felt Kevin’s presence before she heard him. Turning, she slanted a smile up at him. “Sorry if I woke you. I couldn’t sleep so I thought I’d try some tea.”

  “I wasn’t asleep either. I got a call about another rabid animal. I have to go out.” His dark eyes swept over her. “I can see what you’re thinking, but I don’t want you to go.”

  She bit her trembling lower lip. “I feel like I’m messing up your life.”

  He stepped nearer and put his hands on her shoulders. “I feel more alive than I have in years, since you left. Don’t go, Mallory. Promise me you won’t.”

  With his intent gaze on her and the warmth of his hands seeping into her skin, she couldn’t think, let alone make any decisions. “Let’s talk about it later.”

  Disappointment twisted his mouth, and he dropped his hands back to his sides. “I didn’t get a chance to tell you that Abby called with information. She’s still tracking down the names because the records were sealed pretty tightly, but she found a document the birth mother filled out. You were born when your mother was in jail.”

  A sick feeling swirled in her belly. “Jail? She was some kind of criminal? That bolsters my theory that maybe she killed my dad.”

  He nodded. “It sure makes it seem possible. Abby didn’t know why she was in jail yet, but she’s working on it.”

  The teakettle shrieked, and Mallory lifted it from the heat. She poured hot water over the tea bag. “This is exactly why I never wanted to find my birth mother. You hear all these terrible stories. If it wasn’t for bringing justice to my father, I’d forget the whole thing. And even if she’s innocent, once I make contact, there’s no going back.”

  “Let’s see what Abby finds out. Maybe she’s still in prison and had nothing to do with your dad’s death. Then you can ignore the information and never make contact.”

  “I can hope.” She followed him through the living room and set her mug on the coffee table. “It’s one in the morning. Do you have to go out often in the middle of the night?”

  He went to the door and grabbed his jacket. “It happens. At least you’re here and I don’t have to call Kate to come babysit. I won’t be gone long. Keep the door locked.”

  “I will.” When the door shut behind him, she curled up on the sofa with her legs tucked under her. She heard a sound and turned.

  Carol descended the stairs dressed in red pajamas. Her bangs went every which way, and her eyes were swollen from sleep. “What are you doing drinking tea in the middle of the night? And did I just hear the door shut?”

  “Kevin got called out. Another rabid animal.”

  Carol yawned and wandered over to sit on the love seat. “At least the kids didn’t wake up.”

  “Kevin got some news about my birth mom. I was born when she was in jail.”

  Carol hesitated, then brushed her bangs to one side. “Jail? T-that’s unexpected. How do you feel about it?”

  “Trust my best friend to get to the heart of the matter.” Mallory took a sip of her hot tea. “My real mother was a criminal. What does that make me?”

  Carol pointed a finger at her. “You put that talk away right now. There’s no shame attached to you because of her mistakes. You’re still the same caring, wonderful person you were before you heard that news.”

  “I wonder what she did to land in jail.” Pregnant in jail. What must that have been like? Didn’t children born of inmates usually get put into the foster-care system? The shame and fear her mother must have felt tugged at her heart. It was the same shame she’d felt herself when she stared at the positive result on the test strip she’d bought at the drugstore. How had her mother heard the news—from a hard-faced guard?

  Carol hugged her knees to her chest. “Did you hear anything about your biological dad?”

  “No details on him yet, and very little about my birth mom, really. The private investigator hopes to have more information soon.”

  “Will you try to contact your mother when you find out who she is? Do you want a relationship?”

  “Right now I just want to find out if she killed my dad, but based on this little bit I know, I don’t think I will show myself if she isn’t responsible. She could be homeless or a drug addict by now. Or still in jail. It’s hard to know what I’ll do until I know more.”

  Mallory could just imagine the scene. A woman like that would constantly want a handout for drugs or something. Did she want justice enough to face something so upsetting?

  Carol pulled an afghan around her. “Suppose you find out she’s a good person who is trying to turn her life around?”

  “It’s unlikely. I just want all this to be over so I can get on with my life.” She took another sip of her tea. “Maybe we should just go back to Bangor and let the law figure this out. At least with everything that’s happened, the sheriff is looking now. He has more tools than I do anyway.”

  Carol looked back at her steadily. “This has nothing to do with getting on with life or avoiding what you might find out about your mother. You’re scared of getting too close to Kevin, aren’t you?”

  Mallory’s face went hot. “Can you blame me? His ex-wife showed up tonight and told him she’s going to see an attorney about officially exercising her right to see Sadie. I think it might be because she’s mad I’m here.”

  Carol stood and yawned. “Running isn’t going to fix this, Mallory. You need to look inside and face what you find. You and Kevin have never gotten over one another. This isn’t even about his ex. This is still about the guilt you carry. I think it’s time you forgave yourself.”

  Mallory watched her head for the stairs. Forgiving herself was easier said than done.

  TWENTY-FIVE

  The building where Len Nevin worked was in Summer Harbor, right in the middle of the downtown area. The street was empty except for a few early tourists. If Kevin hadn’t known the guy was a sleazebag, he would have thought the brick building with its Victorian accents was a legitimate place. Even the sign in the window was discreet with small letters offering to cash payroll checks at the cheapest rates around. But an offer like that wasn’t saying much.

  He put his hand on Mallory’s elbow and guided her inside, where the marble floors and Victorian detail added to the high-class ambience. The place almost smelled antiseptic with the scent of some kind of cleaning solution hanging in the air.

  “How may I help you this morning?” The receptionist, an attractive blonde in her twenties, sent a perky smile their way.

  “We’d like to speak with Mr. Nevin, please.”

  “Of course. Could I have your name?”

  “Game Warden O’Connor.”

  The wattage in her smile dimmed just a bit. “One moment.” She rose and walked down the hall to an office with her high heels clicking on the marble. When she returned, her smile had transformed into a stiff mask. “I’m sorry, but Mr. Nevin will be busy all afternoon.”

  “I think we’ll just interrupt him.” With his hand still on Mallory’s arm, he guided her around the receptionist to the office door. The receptionist tried to stop him, but he ignored her and opened the door.

  Phone in hand, Nevin looked up, and his expression went dark. He put the phone down. “I can call the sheriff.”

  “I’m a game warden. He’ll back me up if you’d care to try.”

  Nevin’s pale-blue eyes looked them over before he leaned back in his chair. “I
suppose this is about Edmund Blanchard. You’ve dug into the records.”

  Kevin disliked him more by the minute. “Smart man.”

  Nevin shrugged. “No sense in prevaricating. He came to me for a loan, and I turned him down. No big secret about that.”

  Mallory glanced around at the pictures on the walls. “Did he say what he wanted the money for?”

  Kevin admired her cool tone and calm manner. “And did you speak with him face-to-face?”

  “He filled out an application. He said he wanted to pay back a loan he’d taken out to get his boat, that he’d regretted getting it.”

  Mallory swung back around from her perusal of a wall of awards. Her dark eyes were narrowed and focused. “What loan did he want to pay off?”

  “I don’t remember where he’d gotten the money originally. I could check his application though.” Nevin picked up the phone and asked his receptionist to bring in the paperwork. “The amount he wanted was much too high for his income to support. I’m surprised the original loaner gave him that kind of money.”

  Kevin knew the kind of boat Edmund had purchased was in the two hundred thousand range. “How much?”

  The door opened, and the receptionist entered with a file in her hand. She didn’t look at Kevin or Mallory, and her mouth was set in a flat line. She handed over the file and rushed out, shutting the door behind her.

  Nevin opened the file. “I could have looked it up on the computer, but I assumed you would want the proof in Edmund’s own handwriting. Looks like he requested two hundred and twenty-five thousand dollars.”

  Kevin saw Mallory’s quick intake of breath. That was a heck of a lot of money. Who would have given Edmund that kind of cash?

  Before he could ask, Nevin looked up with a frown. “I think this was probably another reason why I rejected the request. Edmund said he got the money from a private individual, and he wouldn’t reveal the name so I could verify it.” He slid the paper across the desk’s gleaming surface so they could look at it themselves.

  “Who would give my father that kind of money? That’s nearly a quarter of a million dollars. He had no way of even earning that much money in the rest of his career.”

  Nevin steepled his fingers. “That was my thought too. As I recall he seemed almost desperate to get the money, which made no sense. There was no lien on the boat so it’s not like the situation should have been so important to him. I suppose the person might have been charging a confiscatory interest rate, but then ours isn’t exactly prime.”

  Mallory picked up the paper and perused it. “What was his reaction when you rejected his application?”

  “He asked me to reconsider and asked how he might convince me. I gave him all the reasons I couldn’t give him the money. Before rushing out of here and slamming the door behind him, he muttered something about his life being over.” Nevin shrugged. “I was sorry to disappoint him because I liked him. But business is business, and it would have been a stupid decision on my part.”

  The color drained out of Mallory’s cheeks, and Kevin knew she was mulling over her father’s final comment. Could whoever he’d borrowed the money from have ordered his death?

  Mallory stood with Kevin on downtown Main Street. A nearby fudge shop sent an aroma cloud of chocolate their way. She still reeled from hearing about her father’s desperation to get that loan. She had a feeling they were missing something important, but what?

  Kevin took her arm and turned her toward the street. “The sheriff’s truck is parked in front of the coffee shop. Let’s go talk to him.”

  Woodenly, she let him lead her to the coffee shop. They stepped inside onto wide plank boards. The aroma of roasting coffee wafted through the shop as she looked around for the sheriff. He waved them to his table near the plateglass window to their right.

  He looked like a long scarecrow trying to fold himself into a child’s seat. “I was about to call you.” He tipped his head toward a slender woman in her midthirties with short blonde hair.

  Her Burberry jacket and slacks were a deep claret that went well with her skin. She smiled back at them but didn’t say anything, as if waiting for the sheriff to introduce her.

  “This is Gwen Marcey. She’s the forensic artist I told you about.”

  “Pleased to meet you.” Gwen stood and shook their hands before she sat back down. There was a little smear of graphite on her fingers.

  “Have a seat,” Colton said. “Gwen has the composite done, and we were just talking about it.”

  Mallory slid into a seat and scooted closer. The sheriff’s voice seemed somber, but maybe it was just her state of mind. Nevin’s information had left her reeling. “What did you find in the report?”

  Gwen reached for her leather case. “I hope this won’t upset you, but I drew a picture as well to show the placement of the wound. Plus, I wanted to make sure the identification of the skull hadn’t gotten mixed up. I didn’t want to upset anyone if this wasn’t even your mother.” She glanced at the sheriff, and he nodded. She unclasped the brass buckle on the case and pulled out a large, thick piece of paper, then slid it across the table to Mallory.

  Mallory looked down at the drawing, and her lips parted. It was amazingly like her mother. The hairstyle wasn’t quite right, but the narrow nose and strong bone structure were a perfect match. Her mother had a tiny chip in one tooth, and Mallory saw that same imperfection in the drawing.

  Gwen touched the top of the drawing. “The hair might not be quite right. I looked at hairstyles from that era and guessed.”

  Mallory managed a jerky nod. “She wore her hair parted on the other side, and it was straighter. She fought the curl with a flat iron constantly. I’d always told her to give it up and admit she lived by the sea.”

  Even though she’d thought it wouldn’t bother her, a lump lodged in Mallory’s throat. “It’s my mom for sure.” She touched the mouth. “Look at the chip in the tooth. The nose is perfect too. It’s definitely Mom.”

  The sheriff exhaled and rubbed his forehead. “I don’t know quite how to tell you what Gwen found, Mallory.” He glanced at the artist. “Want to explain?”

  Gwen tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “I studied the autopsy photos and the coroner’s report. He expected to see a drowned woman, and that’s what he saw in spite of the evidence.”

  Mallory’s heart pounded. “What evidence?”

  “In studying the photos, I found a small hole in the cranium. I suspect the coroner blew it off as damage caused by the propeller, but it’s actually a bullet hole. I noticed it in the skull and wanted to see what he made of it in the autopsy. It was just plain missed.”

  Mallory gripped Kevin’s steadying hand and drew in a sharp breath. “That’s impossible. My mother drowned during a massive storm. No one shot her. Could it have been damage from the storm?”

  Gwen shook her head. “Someone killed her.”

  “Could she have killed herself?” Kevin asked.

  Mallory gasped and jerked her hand out of his. “What a thing to say! My mother was happy. She wouldn’t do something like that to her family. She loved us more than anything.”

  “I know, Mal, but as kids we don’t always know our parents’ heartaches.” He looked back at Gwen. “Any thoughts on that?”

  Gwen shook her head. “The bullet went through the back of her head. She couldn’t have reached around and done that to herself. Someone murdered her.”

  Mallory felt cold, then hot, then cold again. “Who could have done it? That makes no sense.”

  The sheriff shuffled in his chair. “Were your parents having any trouble? You ever hear them fighting?”

  “No, and don’t even try to insinuate my father would hurt her. He was out delivering mail that day. I know because I was with him. We got home around three. I started dinner while we waited for her to come home. She never did.”

  It felt as though something heavy sat on her chest, making it hard to draw a breath. Murdered. Did that mean Mallory hadn’t b
een responsible for her mother’s death?

  TWENTY-SIX

  Kevin watched the color come and go in Mallory’s face, and he took her hand again. The news had shocked him, so he knew she was reeling. He motioned to one of the baristas behind the bar. “Could we get two of your largest coffees?” She nodded and went to get them as he turned back toward the sheriff.

  Mallory’s fingers were cold, and she clung to his hand. “I’m glad Dad isn’t here to learn about this. I’m not sure he could have handled knowing someone shot her. Back of the head. Isn’t that execution style?”

  The sheriff took out his Altoids tin and selected a mint. “It might be. Gwen thinks the size of the bullet hole indicates close range.”

  Imagining the scene made Kevin wince. The barista returned with the coffees, and he paid her and added a generous tip. “Thanks.” He rose and retrieved some cream and sugar. “We just talked to Nevin across the street. He says Edmund tried to get a loan for two hundred and twenty-five thousand dollars.” He recounted all the loan shark had told them. “What if Edmund got the money from the mob or something?”

  The sheriff glanced at Mallory. “I know you won’t want to hear this, but what if your parents were both involved with the mob in some way?”

  Spots of color sprang to her cheeks, and her dark eyes flashed. “That’s ridiculous, Sheriff. There was never anything in their lives to indicate something like that.”

  The sheriff snapped his tin shut. “We’re just going over all the possibilities. Try not to get offended as we run through this, Mrs. Davis. We have to look at every angle.” He popped the mint into his mouth while his gaze took on a faraway cast. “I never knew them to travel much. Do you remember them going to New York or any other big city?”

  She shook her head. “I can count on one hand the times in my life we even went as far as Bangor. When we went on vacation, we usually stayed close, just up to the Canadian border where we’d camp and fish for a week. When I was sixteen, Mom took me to New York City to see The Phantom of the Opera. We were together every minute though, and she never spoke to anyone other than hotel and waitstaff.”