Silencing Memories

by Desiree Holt

  “Wow.” Lindsey moved from room to room, studying the design. “I love houses like this. I had to draw one as a class project, and I always wanted to do one for real.”

  “Maybe you’ll get the opportunity when we wrap this up,” Nick encouraged her.

  They sorted out the sleeping arrangements without too much discomfort. Nick seemed willing to give her the space she needed, at least for now. While she unpacked and put her things away, Nick sat on the couch in the living room making calls. She hoped Guardian had more to tell him. Her impatience to find answers was growing thin.

  “Anything?” she asked, walking back into the living room.

  “Yes and no.”

  “That’s your favorite answer, isn’t it?” She pushed her hair nervously behind her ear.

  “Sometimes, that’s all I’ve got. Anyway, the office is working a trace on the Littmans. If they were paid staff employees, it means they have Social Security numbers, which I hope will help us find them. I also asked for a search of other articles on the drowning and on the Dolmans.”

  “What about the estate?” she prodded. “You said maybe someone could find out about the beneficiaries and go from there.”

  “That’s Reno’s department.” He circled something on his tablet. “He’s setting a meeting with one of the partners in Dolman’s old firm. Two of them are still practicing, believe it or not.”

  “He’s going to Boston? Just for that?” She was amazed at what this firm could and would do for its clients.

  “He wants to see the probate file and find out about the balance of the estate.” He tossed the electronic device on the coffee table. “Something stinks here, Lindsey, and Reno’s got the best nose for rooting out stuff like that. He’ll call back when he has a day and time set up.”

  His cell rang, and he tapped the icon to answer it. “Yeah? Yeah? Okay, just a sec.” He reached for the tablet again and picked up his stylus. “Okay, go. Uh-huh. Uh-huh. Yup. Got it. Thanks.” He stood up and reached for her hand. “Get your jacket. We’re going out again.”

  “Where to?”

  “When I called earlier, I asked the office to find out who bought the Dolman place,” he explained. “There has to be a recorded deed, and Guardian can search it out better online than we can begging at city hall. And more quickly. They did, so now we’re going to see if anyone’s in residence.”

  The house was back on the other side of the island, surrounded by a high stone wall almost obscured by tall bushes. An iron gate barred the driveway, but a small speaker box sat just to the left.

  Nick pushed the Call button.

  “Yes? Who is it, please?” a disembodied voice asked.

  Nick introduced himself, told whoever it was that he had identification and explained they were trying to trace the previous owners. After a long minute, the gate swung open and they drove through.

  “I guess now I know what they call a house,” Lindsey mused.

  Three stories of New England architecture rose before them, clapboards weathered by storms and age. A pitched roof swept up to the sky and tendrils of smoke curled from a chimney. Mullioned windows sparkled in the sun. No porch on this side, just a wide stoop leading up to double doors. One of them swung open as Nick and Lindsey pulled into the circle in front.

  A woman somewhere between fifty and seventy, dressed in a navy dress and sensible shoes, stepped out to wait for them.

  “I’m Mrs. Hutchins,” she told them. “The housekeeper. The Reynolds family isn’t in residence at the moment. I’ll try to help you, but I don’t know if I can tell you anything.”

  After checking Nick’s credentials thoroughly and acknowledging Lindsey, she led them inside and took them all the way through to the kitchen. Lindsey tried not to gawk as they passed the rooms. Her architect’s antenna was vibrating, noting all the fine details of workmanship, the excellent placement of rooms and windows. She’d like to come back some time and really take a good look.

  “Would you like some tea? I was just about to fix some.”

  Nick and Lindsey both nodded, and they waited while Mrs. Hutchins fussed with cups and saucers and a plate of cookies.

  She sat across from them, stirring sugar into her tea, her eyes bright and questioning. “If you’ll tell me what you want to know, I’ll try to answer your questions. As long as it doesn’t violate anyone’s privacy,” she amended. “The Reynolds family guards its privacy very tightly.”

  “I represent clients who are searching for long lost relatives,” Nick told her. “The information we’ve uncovered led us here. Feel free to check on my agency before you answer any questions if that will make you feel better.”

  Mrs. Hutchins studied the business card Nick had given her, then rose from her chair. “If you don’t mind. I’ll be just a moment.”

  Lindsey sipped her tea nervously, her body filled with tension, as they waited for the woman to come back. When she did, her face was hard to read.

  “So are you willing to help us?” Lindsey burst out, unable to sit quietly any longer.

  Mrs. Hutchins nodded. “Yes. I called Mr. Reynolds at his office, and he gave me permission to answer general questions.” She took a sip of her tea and set the cup down, placing it precisely on the saucer. “The Reynolds family purchased this place more than thirty years ago. Ownership has since passed to the younger Mr. and Mrs. I’ve been working for them for ten years, and before that I lived in Portland. I’m sure I’ve never heard any of them mention people named Dolman.”

  “Then you never knew anything about the people who owned this house before?” Lindsey was growing impatient. The more walls she met, the more dead ends, the more impatient she became to find answers. Somewhere in her past was someone who wanted to kill her and this was their best chance so far to find out who that might be.

  “Not really.”

  Not even Nick’s careful questioning could extract further information from the housekeeper. The only thing she knew about the Dolmans was they’d owned this house at one time.

  “Well, thank you for your time,” he said at last, his tone polite. “We’re staying on the island for a few more days at the Burton place.” He pointed to the business card. “My cell phone number is on there on the bottom if you should happen to think of anything.”

  Maybe it was the mention of the Burtons or the fact that the Burtons thought enough of them to have them as guests on the island. Whatever the trigger, something had unexpectedly made them acceptable. And Mrs. Hutchins had a sudden memory recovery. “Actually, now that you’ve jogged my brain, it seems I do know some of the story. Such a tragedy.”

  “Anything you can remember would be helpful,” Nick assured her.

  “Well, it isn’t much, really.” She pursed her lips. “I heard Brent and Marie Dolman were a nice young couple. Both of their families had homes on the island for years. Mr. Brent Dolman brought his wife and children here to this place after they were married. They were all very well thought of. When Mr. and Mrs. Reynolds bought this house, people were quick to tell them the story.”

  Lindsey almost rolled her eyes. I’ll just bet.

  “The residents were shocked by the tragedy,” Mrs. Hutchins continued. “Mr. Dolman was an excellent sailor, they said, and could handle a boat in any situation. Still, the mystery was why they would do something as foolish as going out with a storm coming in.”

  “What about the Littmans?” Nick asked. “I understand they worked for Brent and Marie. Are they still around?”

  The housekeeper clicked her tongue. “I heard they were destroyed by the whole thing and moved away somewhere.” She narrowed her eyes. “You know they inherited quite a large sum from the Dolmans.”

  And no less than they deserved, her tone implied.

  What was behind that?

  “Do you have any idea where they might have gone?” Nick prodded. “Or what happened to the senior Dolmans? Or Mrs. Dolman’s parents?”

  Mrs. Hutchins shook her head. “I’m sorry, but I don
’t.” Her attitude indicated she’d given them all she was going to.

  They thanked her and went out to the car, heading back down the driveway. As they approached the gate, it swung open to let them exit the grounds.

  “Something is weird here.” Nick’s thumb tapped the steering wheel as they drove back along the road. “One of the stories in the paper mentioned the storm forecast, too, and Brent Dolman’s sailing experience. This whole story just doesn’t ring true.”

  At that moment, his cell phone buzzed and he answered the call impatiently. “Vanetta. Yeah. Uh-huh. Great. Can you text it to me along with directions? Good. Thanks again.”

  He pulled over to the curb while he retrieved the text message. He left the message on the screen as he made a U-turn and started back the way they’d just come.

  Lindsey tried to quiet the nervous energy running through her. “Where are we going now? What was that call about?”

  “That was the office,” he said. “They found the address of the place where Marie’s parents lived. It’s been sold also, but I thought I’d see if we could learn anything from the new owners. I just hope the house is open and someone’s there.”

  Luck wasn’t with them this time, however. The house was obviously still battened down for the winter, and no one had come to open it yet for the season.

  “This was a long shot.” Nick sighed. “But it was worth a try.”

  Lindsey chewed her bottom lip. “So what’s next? We can’t just sit around and do nothing.”

  Nick opened the folder from Dan Gregory and glanced through one page of notes.

  “Okay, we’re going to stop at the tiny little market right near the ferry landing. Dan says it’s a good place to pick up supplies. Then I’m going to call Guardian again and see what else they’ve come up with.”

  ****

  I found you, you spoiled brat. Did you think I wouldn’t?

  You surprised me, figuring things out. I had to make some quick adjustments to my plan. Can’t torture you much longer. At least not the way I have. But when I get hold of you…

  Last night, I stabbed the Barbie doll forty times. It should have been you. I wanted to see your blood everywhere. But soon it will be your turn. Very soon.

  Now I have to move fast. I knew the cat would be out of the bag soon. Maybe it’s time. Yes, it’s definitely time. The game is almost over.

  You had it all, didn’t you? Well, you won’t have it anymore.

  Now I get what’s mine. What should always have been mine. And you can’t stop me.

  Bitch!

  Chapter Seventeen

  The wind had picked up by the time they got back to the house, and Lindsey was happy to get inside. Nick hauled wood in from the stack by the back door and lit a fire in the fireplace. While Lindsey stood in front of it warming herself, he pulled a bottle of wine from one of the grocery sacks, found two wine glasses in one of the cupboards, and carried everything into the living room.

  Balancing the filled wine glasses, Nick stretched out on the floor in front of the fire, leaning back against the couch and patting the floor next to him.

  “Come sit beside me, Lindsey. You’re wound tight as a drum. I’ll make my call to the office, then we can try to relax.”

  “I don’t think I know the meaning of that word anymore.” She nibbled at her bottom lip. “And I’m fine on the couch. Thanks.”

  He turned his head, his eyes studying her face as she sat primly on the edge of the furniture.

  “Lindsey, I don’t plan to rip your clothes off if that’s what’s worrying you. I don’t know what the hell is suddenly going on with us, but I thought it would be nice to sit here together and try to unwind. Is that such a bad thing?”

  She wanted to ask him if she was just a substitute for Stacy. If being handy put her at the top of the list.

  “I have no idea what wild ass idea is running around in that brain of yours,” he continued, “or what set it off. Whatever it is, we’ll deal with it later. Meanwhile, just come sit by my side. We’ll have some wine and watch the fire.”

  Realizing she could precipitate an argument she wasn’t yet ready for, Lindsey lowered to the floor beside him and gratefully accepted the wine. She sipped it slowly while Nick spoke to his office. The conversation was long, although his side consisted mostly of “Yeah” and “Uh-huh” and “Good, very good.”

  “Tell me what that was about,” Lindsey demanded as soon as he disconnected. “Have they learned anything else?”

  “I’d say we’re making progress.” He took a swallow of his own wine. “Reno has an appointment in Boston tomorrow at Brent Dolman’s former law firm. One of the partners has agreed to meet with him.”

  Lindsey jerked upright, almost spilling her wine. “So my father actually was an attorney? A partner in a big firm?”

  “Looks that way. The article in the paper was as factual as it could be. Reno’s going to tell them about your stalker. Hopefully, that will prod them to give him a look at the probate file and find out about the weird bequests. He’ll call us as soon as he’s done and let us know how it went.”

  “Those nightmares I had.” She fiddled with her hair, doing the thing where she tucked it behind her ear. Damn, she needed to break herself of that. “I know this will sound weird to you, but it’s as if the past was reaching out to tell me to save myself. To find the answers to a puzzle I didn’t even know existed. My mother was pregnant with me when this happened, so in essence I was in the water. And could have drowned.”

  “My grandmother would tell you it’s not weird at all,” Nick disagreed. “Whatever energy reached out to you when your father died, it tried to prod you into looking for answers. And when your mother died, they came back stronger than ever. In a way, you actually might have been in the water and could have drowned.”

  “But I didn’t, thank God. I just wish my mother had told me all this a long time ago.” She stared at the fire. “Speaking of my mother, any word from the nursing home?”

  “Our man is still working there, and he’s been able to pick up bits and pieces of conversation from the other employees. I guess the break room is a good place for gossip, and he’s a master at ferreting it out. He’s convinced that someone was there that day, someone who got past the nurses’ station, and no one wants to talk about it. Liability and all that.”

  “Right now, I just want answers,” she told him. “Liability’s the last thing on my mind. What about the Littmans? Have they found any trace of them?”

  He nodded. “But it’s not all good. They relocated to a small town in upstate New York, using part of their windfall to buy a small business and a house for them and their daughter.”

  “Daughter?” Lindsey frowned. “There was no mention of a daughter in any of the articles. Nothing indicated the housekeeper and her husband had any children at all. Where did a daughter come from all of a sudden?”

  “It’s possible someone else was caring for the child while they worked for the Dolmans. That happened often in those days. Domestic help was not encouraged to bring along their families.”

  “How weird,” Lindsey commented. “To leave your own kids and go off to care for someone else’s.”

  If I could have children, I’d never leave them for someone else to raise.

  Nick snorted. “You wouldn’t believe some of the strange things I’ve seen in this business. Anyway, I’ve got someone on it, but it will be tomorrow before they get back to us with any results. I did get more on the photos, though.”

  “You mean they know who the rest of those people are?” she asked, clutching her wine.

  “As we thought, Marie Dolman had a brother named George, and we’re trying to find out what happened to him. Also, it appears that Brent Dolman had two brothers we’re trying to track down. We’re also checking for siblings of all the grandparents. That’s it so far.”

  “But that’s more than we had before.” She leaned back against the couch. “I just wish everything didn’t take so l
ong. The only comfort is at least the stalker can’t get to me here.”

  Nick built up the fire, and they sat quietly watching the dancing flames and feeling the warmth wrap around them. Lindsey’s mind was working overtime, trying to absorb all the information while forcing back the constant dread that crept over her.

  “I can’t shake the idea that something horrible is hovering over us,” she told Nick.

  “I can’t promise you what we find will be pleasant, but at least we’ll finally have the answers you need. And hopefully, we’ll catch your stalker at the same time.”

  “If only.” She sighed.

  Nick was as good as his word. He allowed her to keep a minimal distance between them and didn’t try to touch her at all. She could feel the repressed sexual tension radiating from his body. Not that hers was much better. But she couldn’t afford to let down her guard until she knew the real score with him, and other things took priority right now.

  Eventually, lulled by the warmth and the wine, they both dozed off. They were still asleep when Nick’s cell phone rang and woke them. He looked at his watch as he grabbed for the phone.

  “My God, it’s nine o’clock. Holy shit.” He tapped the phone to accept the call. “Vanetta.”

  Lindsey could tell from his side of the conversation that it was his office, and the length of the call told her they had more information for him. She fidgeted waiting for him to finish. Finally, he hung up, but he took a long moment before he turned to her.

  “Did they find out anything more?” Her voice was taut with apprehension.

  Nick flopped back against the pillows. “We seem to be getting someplace, but I’m not sure where. The Littmans died two years ago in a house fire while they were asleep. Arson was suspected, but no one could prove anything. The daughter, who was thirty-seven at the time and had been in and out of their lives for years, apparently just disappeared.”