“Becky, don’t hang up; I need help.”
“Sam, I was going to call you—the information on your Lincoln is back.
What’s the big emergency over there?”
I stopped for a second and processed that information, deciding I needed to know where that phone call came from more than I needed to know about the Lincoln right now.
“Great, but this is more important. Someone just called me and pretended to be Sandy.”
“Really?” she sounded skeptical. “How many drinks have you had today Sam?”
“Drinks? You think I’m drunk?” Dumb question. “I need you to find out where the last call to my office came from. The call was direct to my office, not through the front desk, so the person, whoever it was, knows my direct phone number.”
“I understand how upsetting a cruel joke like someone calling pretending to be your dead wife can be, but I can’t just run traces on prank calls.”
“Don’t you understand? She called me directly… on my phone… she said
I can save them.”
“What do you mean them? Who was the person referring to?” Becky still didn’t believe it was Sandy. Did I?
“The kids, Tyler and Caitlyn. They are still alive, and I need to know where they are. The place that phone call came from is my only lead.”
“So let me get this straight. Someone called you, a woman who sounded like Sandy, and told you that Tyler and Caitlyn are still alive? Specifically? She mentioned them by name?”
“Well…” I stammered, “not exactly, but that’s what she meant, and I know
it was Sandy. I know my wife’s voice when I hear it. And you hung up on me before I could tell you about the picture of Sandy I found at the Country Cottage
Tea Room. If they are all still alive, we need to find them. Now!”
Becky was quiet for a long moment, and I could practically hear her rubbing her eyes before she responded.
“Picture?”
“Yes, in the trunk of the black Lincoln.”
“The Lincoln? You were in the Lincoln? Sam, you need to stay away from that Lincoln. That Lincoln is bad news….”
“Becky, I know its bad news; I’ve been trying to tell you there was something wrong about that car and it was parked behind the tea room. I thought it was too coincidental that I went to check out the tea room and the
Lincoln just happened to be there, so I checked it out. And I’m starting to think
Sandy has been trying to get my attention for the past week. I…” I started to stammer a little as my emotions bubbled up. “I‘ve seen her in my dreams, I thought I saw her here in the inn, and then the other night I saw her in bed. And the note…”
Becky sighed audibly.
“Sam, I am going to forget the last part of what you said and tell you I do not believe for one minute that Sandy, Tyler, or Caitlyn are still alive. I saw the wreckage from the accident; I was on the scene. They could not have survived.
I’m sorry, Sam, but it’s the truth. And next, I will tell you how sorry I am that someone is screwing with you like this. Finally, I will tell you that I will run a trace on your phone because based on what you have told me and the Lincoln sightings, it is possible that you and Sandy might be mixed up with the Khayman clan.”
Wait, what was she trying to say? That we were mixed up with the Khaymans?
“And Sam, if I find out you are mixed up with the Khaymans, I’ll take you down. Old friendship or no old friendship.”
“Becky, why would you think we were mixed up with the Khaymans?” I asked quietly.
“Because that black Lincoln is registered to Maxwell Khayman.”
My mouth fell open. Maxwell Khayman was the Jersey Shore’s main organized crime boss. He ran the strip clubs, drug trade, and prostitution ring.
But what did that have to do with me?
“I have nothing to do with Khayman, and neither does Sandy.” But all of a sudden, I wasn’t so sure.
“Sam, I will run the trace. But for now, stay away from that Lincoln.” Then she hung up the phone. Didn’t she know how to say goodbye?
This time, I skipped the glass and began drinking straight from the bottle.
I got up and went to the bar.
“Curtis!” I yelled when I didn’t see him. People stared at the half-drunk guy yelling in the middle of the bar. Oh, wait, that’s me. I walked behind the bar and went in the back.
“Sam, you drunk again? You know where the Jack is if you’re out—you don’t need me,” Curtis said while openly laughing at me.
“Not yet, but I’m almost there. That’s not why I’m here. I have plenty of
Jack in my office.” I stopped and stared at him for a minute. He stared back.
“What do you want, then?”
“You know that guy you know? The real estate guy? Can you get me his number?”
“Yeah, I have his card in my wallet. Bob Hoskins.” He fished the card out of his wallet and handed it to me. “Call him, he’s good. Looking to sell the inn?
Buy a place in the Hamptons?”
“No, I need to find out where Sandy is.” And with that, I walked out.
I can only imagine the look on his face and what was going through his mind. But it was the truth.
So much was happening so fast, and I knew the school was at the heart of
it all. When I got back to my office, I picked up the phone to call Bob.
Dammit. Voice mail.
“Hi, Bob, this is Sam Shepard. I need to know who owns the old Admiral
Farragut site in Pine Beach and how much they are asking. I want to buy it.
Call me back as soon as possible—it’s urgent.” I left my number, hung up, and
spent the rest of the afternoon with Dr. Daniels.
March 15th
The sound of the door clicking shut jolted me awake. I lifted my head from my desk and regretted it after feeling the thunder behind my eyes. I quickly checked the clock: 1:22. It was dark in my office except for the glaring of the red numbers on the digital alarm clock. I got up, crossed my office to the door, and swung it open. I sprung out from my office and jumped into the lobby about ten feet, looking around like a mad man. The hand on my shoulder made me jump and whirl around violently.
“Sam!” Natalie jumped back and put her hand to her chest.
“My God, Natalie, don’t do that!”
She was breathing heavily. I must have scared her.
“Sam, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to… Are you alright?”
“Yeah, I’m okay. Did you see anyone in my office?”
“Yes—you. I was checking to see if you were still in there; did I wake you? I saw you in there sleeping at your desk and tried to be quiet, but I guess I wasn’t as quiet as I thought I was. I am so sorry.” And she did look very sorry. Cute, but sorry.
“It’s alright, Nat. I thought… I’m just a little bit jumpy. I had a very disconcerting day, and my head hurts. I think I just need to go to bed.” I put my hand to my forehead, pretending to feel the pain in my head with my hand.
“Do you need anything? Do you want me to help you back to your room?”
I stopped and thought about this for a moment. I looked at her dark hair resting lightly on the sheer white blouse open to her midriff, exposing the soft valley between her pert breasts that were covered by a blue shirt underneath. I imagined unbuttoning the blouse and letting it drop the floor. Lifting her arms up above her head and pulling the silk blue shirt off of her, revealing her soft lace bra while she gazed up into my eyes. My little daydream was interrupted by the phone ringing at the front desk.
“No, Nat. I’ll be okay.”
“Okay, Sam. I need to get that.” And I watched her slim body move quickly as she darted off to answer the phone. And I was off to my bedroom in the cottage.
The night was dark and my head was cloudy. I walked through the courtyard and entered the cottage. It was pitch dark, with only the faintest light seeping in through
the window into the living room. I slowly made my way through the living room, careful not to bump into the table or desk. I stopped just before exiting the living room. Was someone here? I could sense something, but I didn’t know what it was. I couldn’t hear breathing or sense movement. It was almost as if a corpse were in the room with me.
I looked around again, making sure to get a good look at the room without turning on the light. My eyes were keenly adjusting to the darkness. I didn’t see anyone, so I moved on into the bedroom. I crossed the room and pulled my shirt off over my head. I dropped it on the floor and froze.
I wasn’t breathing again.
Standing there, on the other side of my bed, was Sandy. She was cloaked in a dark robe, her skin pale as moonlight and lips red as burgundy wine.
Her eyes were open, but she wasn’t looking directly at me. Instead, she was focused on the bed.
I didn’t know what to feel or how to react.
“Sandy?”
“I know you were there today,” she hissed with some difficulty. Was she having trouble breathing? Something seemed wrong with her. Could be that she was supposed to be dead. “Go back. Save them. I am gone and cannot be saved. My fate is sealed, but theirs is not. You can save them.”
I still didn’t know how to react to what I was seeing. Were my eyes—and ears—playing tricks on me? She lifted her head and stared right through me, her eyes black as night. My mouth fell open in shock and fear; I had never seen anything quite like it before. She lifted her hand toward me, not reaching for me but pointing at me. Then everything went black.
I awoke several hours later. It was still dark, but I couldn’t see my clock.
Somehow, I was in bed. I didn’t remember how I got there. But I remembered seeing Sandy.
But now she was gone. I sat up in bed and searched the room. I got up and ran into the living room; she was definitely not here. Had she been here at all? Did I imagine her? How drunk had I been? I made it to the cottage on my own, but maybe I should have brought Natalie back with me. Then she would have seen Sandy, too. Or would she have? And what if she didn’t? Would I have tried to get Natalie into bed again? That would have been bad.
I looked out my bedroom window. The sun was just starting to show itself over the horizon. I surely wasn’t going to get any more sleep after the excitement. I quickly showered and dressed. On my way out the door, I locked it— something I never did. The cottage was situated behind the inn in such a way that you had to either scale the fence behind the cottage or come in through the inn, so I never really worried about it. But after last night; it was so real—she was so real—that I locked the door. I think I need to stop visiting with Jack so much. He’s making things a little less clear these days. Maybe I need some divine intervention.
The inn was very busy today—Natalie was right. The lobby was packed with people milling in and out. It was only a little after 7, and they were already heading into the pub for breakfast or out the door to enjoy the sunny day. I made my way through the lobby, into my office, and dropped myself behind my desk. I spent some time trying to get my mind off what I’d seen last night by paying some bills and ordering some cleaning supplies and linens online. But nothing could get that vision out of my head.
After a couple hours of failing to get the disturbing images out of the forefront of my mind, I gave in. I picked up the phone and dialed the number that had been pressing itself into my consciousness since I woke up.
“Blessed Morning, Pastor Paul here,” came his upbeat and cheery voice.
“Pastor, it’s Sam Shepard,” I replied almost inaudibly.
“Sam, how are you? I’ve been praying for the Lord to guide you these past days. What brings you to call me this morning?”
“Pastor,” I began with some difficulty, “I have…” I trailed off, finding the right words difficult. “I have been seeing things lately.”
“Hmmm.” I could hear the contemplation in his voice. “What sort of things?”
“Things… people…” I took a deep breath. “People who aren’t there.
They can’t be there.” I finished with some anticipation hanging on the end.
He was quiet for a moment, and I could almost hear his disbelief.
“Would these be people I might know?”
“Pastor,” I began quickly this time, “I think… I mean, do you have time to see me today?”
“Why, Sam, I always make time; when did you want to come by?”
“How about now?”
He laughed and responded confidently, “Sam, come on by, I’ll shift a few things around.”
I hung up the phone and was out the door and in the Chevelle in a matter of minutes. The muscle car’s engine roared to life, and I gunned it onto the street to the church.
I stared at the deep mahogany of Pastor Paul’s door before knocking.
He’s going to sign me up for AA, I know it, I thought. I knocked on the door and waited for the pastor to call me in. I entered with a sheepish smile on my face, and before saying anything else, I apologized.
“Pastor, first I wanted to apologize for that night in the cemetery. It was completely out of line, and I am embarrassed by the whole incident.”
“Sam, please, sit. If you had offended me, which you did not, the Lord says all is forgiven. How can I say any differently?” He adopted a big smile, rising from behind his desk to take the chair across from mine.
“So tell me, Sam, what has brought you to my office today? What are you seeing that has you so disturbed?”
I concentrated my eyes firmly on the leg of his chair and mustered everything I had within me to answer his question.
“Sandy,” I said evenly and simply. “I have seen Sandy. And not just once;
I’ve seen her twice.” He regarded me with a note of seriousness. “Pastor, she was as real as you are to me right now. She was lying in bed the other night, I swear it! I saw her as I went to get in bed, and I laid there for a minute, not sure what to do, but when I looked back again, she wasn’t there!” It was all spilling out of me like water from an opened dam. The pastor held up a hand to stop me.
“Whoa, Sam, slow down.” He leaned forward and placed his hand on my leg. “You saw her, then she was gone. It was simply your mind playing tricks on you, showing you what, in your heart, you wanted to see.” I sat there, slowly shaking my head back and forth as the pastor continued, “I know how much you miss her and the children, and so does God.”
“Pastor, you don’t understand.” I continued to shake my head. “She called me; I know it was her on the phone and… I saw her again last night.” His expression continued to have a comforting air about it. Then I went on. “She spoke to me.” He stopped smiling.
“Spoke to you?”
“Yes.”
“What did she say?”
“She told me that she was gone but that they could be saved, and that she knew I had been there today.”
“Been there? Been where, and who do you think she meant could be saved?”
“Pastor, isn’t it obvious?”
He stared at me blankly for a moment, playing into my dementia.
“Tyler and Caitlyn. They’re still alive.”
His demeanor became very serious. He clasped his hands together and breathed out heavily.
“Sam, you need to let go of them. You need to stop drinking.” My head began shaking back and forth, and I stood.
“Sam, listen to me,” he pleaded. “They’re gone—you cannot save them.
Not Sandy, not Tyler, and not Caitlyn either.”
“No, you didn’t see her. She was there. Her face, it was white as a sheet, and her eyes—her eyes were black, and her lips were a deep red. She was there.”
The pastor looked at me. His face was still serious, but it took on a slightly frightened look.
“White skin, you say?”
“Yes, white skin, and she wore a dark, cloak-type dress.”
His face went ashen. He was clearly dis
turbed by what I was saying, so that made two of us.
“And where exactly did you go that she claimed to know about?”
“Where? Uh, well, I went to Pine Beach, the old Admiral Farragut campus, just to look around. I hadn’t been there in a while. Then I went over to the Country Cottage Tea Room. I just had a feeling I should go there. And let me tell you, something very weird…” He cut me off.
“Sam,” he stood, “I am going to have to ask for your pardon. I have an appointment that I simply must keep.”
“What? An appointment?”
“Yes, yes, I must keep it. I’ll call you later, and we will continue this conversation.” He rose and began to shuffle me out of his office. “I will call you, I promise; I must keep this appointment, it is of utmost urgency. You will have to trust me.”
“Of course, Pastor, but…” He was practically shoving me out the door now.
“Goodbye, God bless.” And the door shut behind me.
Did God just reject me? I was sure He had not. I am no religious man, by any means, but I know enough to know that God would not turn me away in my time of need. But what had just happened? I walked down the steps into the parking lot to the Chevelle. I could see the pastor in his office through the window. He was on the phone, his back to me. Whomever he was talking to, it was in a very animated manner. Must have been an important appointment.
The Chevelle roared to life; I pushed on the accelerator and the muscle car rumbled its way back to the inn. About to make a left onto Surf Boulevard… and there it was. About two blocks behind me. The black Lincoln. I stopped in the middle of the street with my blinker on. I could have made the left—there was no traffic—but I waited. I waited for that car to get closer. As it pulled up behind me, I threw my door open and stormed out of the car towards the still- moving Lincoln. I stalked toward the car with my finger waving.
“You! Get out of the car!” I yelled like a madman. The car stopped suddenly and I could see the driver, a man, struggling with the column shifter. I reached the driver’s-side door and ripped it open.
“Why are you following me?!” I screamed as I reached in and pulled out an old man. He had to be 75 if he was a day.
Sands of Time Page 7