Max instincts hummed. “What company?
“Why?”
“My mother likes powerful men. Money didn’t attract her, but power did.”
“Couldn’t say,” Garrett said. “I met one of the owners once—can’t say I’d remember him again.” He paused. “Boreal. That’s the company name, I believe.”
Max had never heard of it. She made a mental note to send the name and address to Rogan to follow up. She hoped he had the time. If not, she’d be spending a few days figuring out what Boreal did and who their principals were—specifically, the people who had access to the house near where her mother’s car was left.
“Technology company of some sort,” Garrett continued. “I was riding Becky—my favorite horse—and ran into the man on a walk. We chatted. I honestly can’t remember his name.”
“It’s been a while.”
“He comes and goes.”
“Who’s the caretaker?”
“Abel Parsons. He’s local, but keeps to himself. Lives out at the Boreal spread in a separate cottage, no family.”
Max needed to talk to him. He might know something. And she needed to research this business.
“If I may ask, what are you thinking here?”
“Martha was unpredictable in many ways, but the one thing I could count on was that she would find herself with important or powerful people. This community is down-to-earth. I don’t know why she’d come here, unless she was with Jimmy—or someone powerful, like whoever runs the Boreal business.”
“You think a man you have never met, you don’t know, and you just heard about had something to do with your mother’s disappearance? That’s grasping at straws.”
“Perhaps, but I’m going to investigate every thread I find.”
Again, silence, and again, not uncomfortable.
“Beth likes you,” Garrett said. “I trust my daughter-in-law’s instincts.”
Max didn’t have a response, so simply said, “I like Beth, too.”
“I don’t think I can help you, but if you want to come out again and talk, we’re here. I’ll talk to the Scholtens, Abel, too, if you’d like.”
That opening, that kindness, twisted Max’s heart.
“Thank you, Mr. Henderson.”
“Garrett. My friends all call me Garrett.”
Chapter Eight
Gabriel watched Maxine Revere’s cottage for nearly an hour before he went inside.
He had never, in the nearly sixteen years that he’d been co-owner of Havenly, gone into a guest’s rental without permission.
Never.
But this woman could destroy everything he cared about, everyone he loved. He needed to know why. He needed to know if his brother was going to destroy him like he’d promised he would.
So he used his master key and walked into the house of one of his guests.
He closed the door and paused.
Silence.
Waves lapping on the beach.
A late call of a seagull.
The sound of distant laughter. The Oldenburgs, who had rented the cottage two over, had a large family, a sort of family reunion, and were picnicking on the beach. It was night, but not completely dark.
He didn’t know how much time he had, so he went through quickly.
It was clear Maxine Revere wasn’t using the ground floor which had a sitting area, bedroom, and bath.
The middle floor was a large living area that could be converted into more beds, a kitchen and eating area, and a den. The den doors were closed. He opened them and flipped on the light.
At first, Gabriel didn’t quite understand what he was looking at. A roll of butcher paper had been tacked to two walls of the den, the artwork had been removed and stacked behind the couch. The furniture had been rearranged, and the den—meant to be a cozy work space for business travelers—was practically turned into a war room.
He started on the far left of the timeline with a date more than twenty-two years ago: Atherton.
He didn’t know what that meant, but two months later was another date and notation: Postcard from Hawaii.
He stepped closer and removed a postcard that had been tacked to the wall—Hi, Maxie—then immediately put it back on the wall, his heart pounding.
He had a shared history with this woman that she didn’t know about. Her mother. His brother. The truth overwhelmed him and he wanted to grab Eve and run far, far away.
But he couldn’t. Because this was only the beginning.
In the corner of the den was a larger Post-it note and the words: Martha disappears Northampton County: dead?
April, sixteen years ago.
He felt physically ill.
The last postcard tacked to the wall was right before Martha Revere’s disappearance. Hands shaking, he removed it. It had been hand-dated December 31, but the postmark was weeks later.
Maxine—
Sweet baby girl, happy sixteenth. Has Eleanor driven the spirit out of you or did you wrap her around your perfect little finger? I thought she’d be dead by now, but no such luck. Yes, I still read the society pages and take note. You should, too. So much to remember.
I told you I’d come back but life has plans, baby, and they’ll never bring me west. You are a Revere; I don’t think I ever was. But I certainly have enjoyed the ride. Live big, Maxie, not small. There’s no fun in being timid.
—Martha
Gabriel didn’t know what to make of the postcard. He carefully tacked it back up where it had been.
To the right of the corner were many years with very little information—mostly dates and locations—but he saw his brother’s name.
Jimmy Truman: FBI investigation opened? Now inactive.
She knew there was an FBI investigation into his brother.
The abandoned car.
The police investigation.
Martha Revere leasing an apartment in Miami.
Martha using the name of D. Jane Sterling.
Jimmy using the name of J. J. Sterling.
It made no sense.
Well, most of it made no sense to Gabriel, but the parts he understood could ruin him and destroy his family.
He would never allow that to happen.
Jimmy had broken their mother’s heart once, he would not allow his brother to take from him the only thing that had made his mother truly happy.
Gabriel painstakingly made sure he hadn’t disturbed anything in the den, that each item was exactly as he found it. He turned off the light, closed the door, and walked out.
Maxine Revere had to go. And he would find a way to make her leave, if it was the last thing he ever did.
Chapter Nine
When Max woke early Thursday morning, she planned her day.
After drinking coffee, eating a banana on toast, and sending off an email to Sean Rogan and David about Boreal and her questions about the ownership of the property adjacent to the Hendersons, she left the cottage.
Time to introduce herself to Gabriel Truman.
He might have all the answers she needed—or at a minimum, a direction for her to pursue.
She showered, dressed, and went to the main hotel for the complimentary continental breakfast, then found the concierge, Reginald Cruthers.
“Ms. Revere, how may I assist you?”
“Do you have Mr. Truman’s schedule handy?”
“This isn’t our busy season, I can schedule a tour at your convenience. This weekend is booked, but today and tomorrow are mostly clear.”
“I just wanted to talk to him for a minute. Where would I find him?”
“He’s usually in his office at the boathouse before eight every morning.”
“Thank you.”
“Would you like me to call him for you?”
“That’s not necessary, I’ll enjoy the walk.”
She left the hotel and walked down to the boathouse, which was the opposite direction from her beach house. Though the skies were clear, there was a brisk wind bringing a chil
l in from the ocean. She already felt the salt and moisture clinging to her long, thick hair and wisps being pulled out of her loose braid.
The marina at Havenly was moderate in size and impeccably maintained. More than half the slips were rented to locals, and the resort maintained a half-dozen small motorboats to rent and four larger yachts that could be chartered. According to their Web page they had regular tours from May through September, and by appointment during the off-season. Gabriel ran the marina, but he clearly wasn’t the only pilot. The Havenly boats were clearly marked with their own insignia and each had Haven as their name. Haven I, Haven II, and so on.
Gabriel Truman was in his office with the door open. There was no receptionist, but it was still barely eight in the morning. And maybe they weren’t fully staffed yet since it was so early in the season.
He looked up when she walked in. Max recognized him from the photo on the resort website. Late thirties, maybe forty. Looked and dressed like a sailor in sturdy, comfortable boat shoes, no socks, khaki pants, and a white polo shirt with the resort insignia on it.
“May I help you?”
“Gabriel Truman?”
“Yes?”
“My name is Maxine Revere, and I was hoping for some of your time.”
He stared at her blankly for a second. “I’m in the middle of repairs and maintenance this morning. My staff will be in soon, they’ll be able to help with any questions you might have, or you can schedule a tour or charter through the main hotel office.”
“I need to talk to you about your brother, Jimmy.”
“I have nothing to say about Jimmy,” he said flatly. “He’s not in my life, and hasn’t been for years. Decades.”
“Your brother was involved with—”
Gabriel stood and walked around from behind his desk. “I don’t care about anything my brother has done. As far as I’m concerned, I’m an only child.” He now blocked the doorway of his office so she couldn’t enter. He was more than a little angry, and obviously fighting to control his temper.
“I’m aware—”
“You are aware of nothing, ma’am. You can leave.”
She raised an eyebrow. “I’m a guest here, I’m trying to get information—”
“I honestly don’t care. I will talk to you about anything related to our boats or the history of the area or the resort, but I will not talk to you about Jimmy.”
“I’m not trying to dig up dirt or hurt your family in any way,” Max said, both irritated with Gabriel’s reaction and worried that she didn’t have a good reason to encourage him to talk. “I’m looking for my mother, Martha Revere, and I think Jimmy may know what happened to her.”
“I can’t help you. I have work to do, you need to leave.”
“I’m not going to leave.” Why was he being so belligerent? “You don’t like your brother. I don’t care. I don’t like him, either. I met him when I was nine and after that my mother left me with my grandparents and never returned.” The fact that Gabriel hadn’t interrupted again emboldened her and she quickly continued. “I’m here because my mother’s car was abandoned sixteen years ago and I think Jimmy Truman had something to do with it. If you know—”
This time he did cut her off. “Maybe he did, maybe he didn’t, I wouldn’t know and I don’t care. Good-bye, Ms. Revere.”
“Please just listen—”
“I have work to do.” He ushered her out of the boathouse offices and locked the door behind him.
“Maybe I didn’t—”
But he was already walking away, and Max’s words were aimed at his retreating back.
“Well, shit,” she mumbled.
* * *
Gabriel Truman walked as far as he could get from that nosy woman, until he was at the end of the pier. He needed to regroup, figure out how he was going to get rid of Maxine Revere.
Revere.
He was flushed and his heart was beating too fast. He thought for sure when she introduced herself that she was going to accuse him of breaking into her beach house. He hadn’t touched much, he hadn’t taken anything, but he knew then and he knew now that he should never have walked into that cottage.
But Maxine Revere was going to destroy his life if he couldn’t find a way to convince her to leave, that there was nothing here for her, no answers to her questions.
Gabriel jumped in one of his boats and took her out. Being out on the ocean was the only thing that truly calmed him when he was angry. And he was more than angry now. He was furious, deeply worried, and scared.
He had hardly slept the night before when he got home. Instead he’d spent hours online learning everything he could about Maxine Revere. What he learned stunned and terrified him. Maxine Revere was a reporter who had no intention of leaving without answers to her questions. And there were no answers. Gabriel had no idea what happened to Martha Revere sixteen years ago. He hadn’t been here, he relied solely on his mother’s recollection.
He’d had no idea Martha’s car had been found until Bill came over the other night. Her car, but no Martha. He’d never thought she was dead, he tried not to think about Martha and Jimmy at all, but after reading the information Maxine Revere uncovered, it was clear that Martha had been dead for a long time.
He kept the boat close to shore so he could get a cell signal and called the sheriff’s office. A minute later he was connected to Sheriff Bill Bartlett.
“Something wrong, son?” Bill said.
“I just had a visit from Maxine Revere. She talked to me about looking for her mother.”
“I thought she’d come out and talk to you.”
“She thinks Jimmy had something to do with it. Dragging my family through the mud is going to hurt me, hurt Eve, hurt my business.”
“I don’t think that’s her intention, son,” Bill said.
“She’s a reporter! From New York. She has books published and investigates cold cases.”
“Gabriel, I don’t think she means harm. She wants to know what happened to her mother, that’s it. I’ve already run Jane Does in the area. Marcel is running a wider search in neighboring states. So far, no one matches her mother’s description. Her body hasn’t been found, she just disappeared. Maybe there was foul play. Maybe she killed herself. Maybe she took a new identity and is living up in Canada. We don’t know, but when Ms. Revere figures out there are no answers here, she’ll leave.”
Gabriel wasn’t certain that was true. Not based on what he’d read last night, but he couldn’t admit to that, not to the sheriff. “I don’t want her here.”
He stared out across the bay. He couldn’t see the other side, and this was how he liked it. There was peace on the water.
“I have no reason to run her out of town, and Garrett’s helping her.”
“What? Garrett Henderson? Why?”
“Well, I don’t know why, but probably because Garrett will do what Garrett wants to do. He’s always been that way. She had dinner with his family last night, Garrett called me this morning at the crack of dawn wanting to know about the car and the investigation, thinking maybe I held out on the girl. I didn’t—I gave her the file, said as much to him. And honestly, maybe there’s some truth to her theory, but it was sixteen years ago. That’s a long time to find much of anything.”
Gabriel knew exactly when it had been, and he wasn’t going to allow a Revere to destroy him. He pictured the attractive, stately woman who stood in his face and demanded that he help her. She didn’t look or sound like anyone who would take no for an answer.
“I doubt that, Bill. She clearly thinks there’s something to find. She’s rented a beach house for the entire month of April.”
“Jimmy was a bad apple, everyone knows it—just as certain as they know you’re a pillar of the community, Gabriel. If you think that Jimmy’s past crimes will come back and damage you, they won’t.”
Gabriel wasn’t as confident as the sheriff.
“Bill, call me if anything happens with Revere, okay? Whatever s
he digs up, especially about Jimmy, I need to know.”
“Of course, you have my word.”
Gabriel hung up. He needed to learn everything he could about Maxine Revere, and fast, because the survival of his family depended on getting her out of town before she learned the truth.
Chapter Ten
FIFTEEN AND A HALF YEARS AGO
Gabriel Truman took family leave from the U.S. Navy as soon as he was able. The letter had come from his mother last month, but he’d been deployed in the middle of the Pacific and after talking to her and her doctor, her death wasn’t imminent.
She has six months to a year.
Emily Truman could have stopped the cancer years ago, but Emily didn’t like doctors and she didn’t like complaining about her own problems. Now it was too late, and Gabriel realized he was going to lose the only person he had ever cared about.
It wasn’t that his childhood had been perfect. His father was a bitter fisherman who worked hard his entire short life. He was good at his job, and the only time he was happy was when he was on a boat, but the industry had too many downs. Gabriel would never know if the accident that claimed his father’s life when he was ten was truly an accident, or if his father had intentionally set the fire. They might never know, but the insurance paid out and because he was working on the job, it paid double—so Emily could pay off the house, retire from teaching, which had become much harder with her worsening arthritis, and have a small monthly income for the rest of her life.
They could have been comfortable, but his older brother Jimmy had practically invented the get-rich-quick scheme. He conned his mother out of money before Gabriel knew what his brother had been doing. Emily went back to work to make ends meet, and they would have lost the house if the banker hadn’t been a good friend of the Trumans who restructured the loan so her payments wouldn’t put her under. Jimmy had forged Emily’s signature on a substantial second mortgage that almost went through. Had Jimmy got ahold of the equity in the house, Emily would never have been able to pay the mortgage.
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