Still, Forever, Promise

by D. L. Merritt

  “I thought we’d already ruled Wesley out.”

  “Yeah, we did, but he knows more than he’s telling us. I intend to keep him here until I find out what it is. Don’t suppose he copped a plea on the way over here?”

  “Nope, but he didn’t put up a fight either. He said he wanted to cooperate.”

  Holcomb grunted. He was in a foul mood today. This whole week had been frustrating. He hadn’t found one shred of evidence to tie anyone to the Rossis’ murder. He’d interviewed every boat owner at the marina, interrogated all the original suspects, and he’d hit a dead end. Everyone had an airtight alibi for that night, including Clay Wesley.

  If it wasn’t for the charter boat captain, Clay Wesley wouldn’t even be here. During the captain’s third interview, the lieutenant showed him pictures of all the local boat rental logos. Without any hesitation, the captain pointed to Clay Wesley’s company logo as the one emblazoned on the side of the skiff anchored next to The Eve.

  Deputy Gray had scoured through every boat rental contract Clay had given them. Every customer had checked out except for one, a woman named Leslie Delaney. She’d signed a contract to rent a boat the day after the Rossis’ murder, but she’d signed it the same day the yacht exploded. This wouldn’t have been an issue if the woman could have been located. The task force had searched through every database at the sheriff’s disposal. There was no record of this woman’s existence. No bank account. No social security number. No social footprint. Even the driver’s license she presented was a fake, and the copy was too grainy to make a clear identification. Clay’s signature was on this contract, and he was the only one who could give them an adequate description.

  The lieutenant’s instincts told him this Ms. Delaney was somehow involved in the Rossis’ murder or at least had knowledge that could be vital to solving this case. Why else would she forge a driver’s license to rent a boat? That fact alone made her a suspect. He picked up the folder with Ms. Delaney’s contract and barged into the bright, sterile room, followed by Deputy Gray.

  Clay looked up as the two officers entered. His eyes widened, and a bead of sweat trickled down the side of his face. He flinched when Holcomb slapped a folder down on the table and took a seat opposite him.

  Deputy Gray followed his superior’s lead.

  “Why am I here?” Clay asked, his voice quivering as he looked from the officers to the camera mounted in plain sight in the corner of the room, and back again. “I told you everything I know when we talked at the marina.”

  “I don’t think so,” Holcomb said, jabbing his index finger at the folder. “There’s a contract in here for a woman who doesn’t exist. I think you know who I’m talking about. Were you two in this together? What motive could you have to want to kill the Rossis? If you flip on her and tell us what we want to know, I can arrange for the DA to go easy on you.”

  “Wh-wh-what? I didn’t kill anyone. I didn’t even know those people.”

  Holcomb opened the folder and pointed at the distorted picture of Leslie Delaney. “This woman’s contract is written for a rental the day after the accident, but she took possession of the skiff the same day. Didn’t she?” The lieutenant continued to glare.

  Clay ran his clammy hands down the front of his jeans, his leg still bouncing. “I . . . I’m not supposed to let boats leave the marina during closing hours.”

  “But you let her, right?” Holcomb prodded.

  “She said it was a birthday surprise for her dad. He likes to fish before the sun comes up. She didn’t want to wait until I opened the shop, so I let her have the keys overnight. When I came in the next morning, the boat was still in its slip. I thought she backed out. When she brought the keys back, I asked her why she’d changed her mind. She laughed.” Clay sighed. “She had a great laugh.”

  “How did she explain not taking the boat out?”

  “Umm . . . said her dad got sick at the last minute and couldn’t go.”

  “Did you notice anything off about her? Was she nervous? Acting suspicious?”

  “None of those . . . but—”

  “But what?”

  “The gas tank wasn’t full like it should be. Look, the owner will fire me if he finds out what I did. That’s why I didn’t say anything before. Please don’t tell him.”

  “I could arrest you for obstructing an investigation, young man.”

  “But . . . but I—”

  “If you cooperate and tell me everything you know about this Ms. Delaney, it’ll go a long way toward clearing your name.”

  “I don’t know much. All I remember is she had shiny, red hair down to her shoulders and the bluest eyes I’ve ever seen. She also had a pretty smile. Straight, white teeth.” He sighed again.

  “Is that all you can give me, lover boy? Maybe an overnight stay behind bars will help to jar your memory. Gray, take him down to holding.”

  The officers stood.

  “Wait! We have hidden cameras in the store. The owner installed them a couple of months ago. Said it was to keep the employees honest, but it shows everyone who comes in.”

  This was the first lead they’d had. “I’ll tell you what. I’ll have Deputy Gray take you back to the shop. You get the tape for that day and give it to him. If it helps us crack this case—”

  “Then I’m off the hook.”

  “We’ll see. I’m not making any promises.”

  Chapter 20

  “I haven’t hiked in over a year. I’m a little out of shape.” Ben said, as he collapsed on the entryway floor.

  Brianna followed suit. “A little?” she teased, kissing him on the cheek. “Whew, I could use a shower, but I’m not sure if I can get up.”

  “Ya wanna take one together?”

  “And what do you have planned?”

  “Water conservation,” he said with a crooked smile.

  She chuckled as Ben crawled to his feet and gave her a hand up.

  They were halfway up the stairs when the phone rang. “I’ll get it,” Ben said, returning to the reception desk.

  She waited to see if it was an important call.

  “It’s my agent,” he said, holding his hand over the mouthpiece. “I gave her this number. I’ll be up in a sec.”

  Brianna left to give him privacy. Marian must need him for another assignment or she wouldn’t have called.

  When she entered the apartment, she saw the box of James’s letters still lying on the coffee table and decided to read them again to see if there was a clue they’d missed earlier. Could Sarah be the spirit who haunted the manor? The man she loved had promised to come back for her, but didn’t. Is she here because she’s waiting for him to return?

  When Ben came in, she was staring out the window with a letter in her hand.

  “Find anything interesting?” he asked.

  She lifted the letter, staring at the elegant script. “I thought if I read it again, I might find out if Sarah is our ghost.”

  “Were you successful?”

  She shook her head, her ponytail swishing back and forth. “James writes to this sweet, loving girl, and I can’t wrap my head around her being this evil black shadow that pulls people out of bed or off ladders.”

  “He could have been fooled by a pretty face. It’s happened to a lot of men. Women have an uncanny way of making us do crazy things for love, even to the point of paying off someone’s debt.”

  Brianna didn’t want to believe Sarah could be that calculating. This house spoke to her heart and captured her imagination the moment Connie emailed her the picture. During the walk-through, she felt like the house had waited all these years for her, and that was the reason it wasn’t put on the market before. She couldn’t tell Ben how she felt. He would think she’d lost her mind, but it was the truth.

  Ben came to stand beside her, and put a comforting hand on her shoulder. “Try not to get discouraged. Whoever this ghost is, we’ll figure it out. This house is perfect for your spa, or it will be once we get rid of this annoying en
tity.”

  “I know you’re right, but I can’t stop thinking there’s more to the story of James and Sarah, and I have to find out what it is.”

  “We’ll search online for information on Sarah Satterfield and see what pops up, but it’ll have to be later this week. Marian has an assignment for me in Montreal. I need to be there by 6:00 p.m. tomorrow.” He hesitated. “I can ask her to find another freelancer if you’re afraid to be here alone.” He waited for her response.

  Brianna looked him in the eye. “You need the work. Go, I’ll be fine. It appears my ghost only goes after men. I’m safe.”

  “I should be home by Wednesday or Thursday at the latest.”

  “I can keep myself busy until then.” She glanced at Ben’s watch. “We need to hurry if you want that shower.”

  “I’ll race you,” Ben said, as he rushed to the bathroom, peeling his clothes off on the way. She joined him, hiding her apprehension behind a smile.

  He seemed in a good mood after making love, and whistled while he packed.

  She sat on the foot of the bed, her feet dangling over the side, and watched him. “I’ll drive you to the airport. I know a shortcut.”

  “I appreciate the offer, but I don’t know what time my return flight will be, and I don’t want you driving in the middle of the night to pick me up. I’ll drop off the rental car and get another one when I come back.”

  She walked with him outside and stood on the veranda as he drove away, feeling the same emptiness she always felt every time he had to leave. She continued to watch until his car turned the curve and was out of sight.

  Reluctant to go back inside and face her uninvited guest, she sat on the veranda, gazing at the descending sun as it streamed rays of light through the treetops. It had transformed the landscape into a magical celestial world. She leaned back and took comfort in her peaceful surroundings, listening to the indecipherable strains of nature that resonated in her heart and fed her soul.

  Her thoughts soon turned to James and Sarah. Could Sarah be the ghost? Was she waiting for a man who would never return, or did she stay for revenge or out of anger? Anger made more sense. It would explain her hostility to men. Had James broken Sarah’s heart like Riley shattered hers? Brianna hoped not. She wanted to believe James and Sarah’s love was real, and not Sarah’s means to an end, but her relationship with Riley had taught her a valuable lesson: love isn’t always easy, and there’s no guarantee a relationship will work out. It’s hard to merge two lives when people have different personalities, ideals, and values. It requires sacrifice and compromise.

  She thought back to her parents’ marriage. They were an odd couple from opposite ends of the spectrum. Her mother, a vegetarian, believed in eating organic food and treating the body, mind, and spirit as one unit. Her father, Italian, loved pasta with meatballs and was a couch potato, watching every game available on ESPN. He couldn’t care less about yoga or spirituality. She’d asked her mother once how they made it work. In her infinite wisdom, she’d told Brianna that a relationship is like a plant. You have to water it, feed it, and nurture it for it to grow and thrive.

  Even her relationship with Ben was a challenge. She was a type A personality, obsessed with work and highly organized. Restless when she didn’t have a project or a goal. Ben, on the other hand, took an easygoing approach to life. He was accommodating, fun-loving, and uncomplicated. Because of their differences, there were times she had to agree to disagree to keep the peace.

  It wouldn’t surprise her if Sarah and James relationship had been difficult, but it didn’t matter. If Sarah’s ghost haunted the manor, Brianna would do her best to find out why she was here and help her move on.

  Twilight was fast approaching, and she couldn’t stay on the veranda much longer or the mosquitos would be using her for their evening meal. Taking Ben’s advice, she went inside to check the computer for information on Sarah. After an hour of searching and finding no results, she gave up. Her only option was to see if she could find out more on James Cleary.

  James wanted to marry Sarah. His family would have known about the engagement. If I can find a relative, I might find out what happened to them.

  She spent the next hour scrolling through online records and found that James’s brother, Henry Cleary, had moved to Charleston sometime in 1916. Cleary was a popular name in Charleston, but she was determined to find her man. She had nothing better to do until tomorrow.

  She’d made eleven calls, and no one she spoke to had heard of James Cleary. She decided to make one more call before giving up. No one answered, and she left a message.

  The hike had been exhausting and her back ached. She stretched to get the kinks out before heading to the kitchen to make a chef salad. She leaned against the counter and ate. The manor felt different now that she knew a dark presence lived here. It gave her the creeps. She would try to get some sleep, though she wasn’t sure if that was possible.

  Tomorrow she would visit Ms. Jane at the bookstore. There had to be a clue to this mystery somewhere, and she would look until she found it.

  Chapter 21

  For the past two hours, Holcomb had watched Deputy Gray dissect the video confiscated from Clay Wesley. So far, they hadn’t found anything suspicious. He’d been so sure the tape would give him the break he needed to close this case.

  He pushed away from his desk and headed to the breakroom for his fifth cup of coffee.

  “Wait, sir! You need to see this.”

  The lieutenant returned to peer over the deputy’s shoulder. “What it is, Gray? What do you see?” Holcomb said as he squinted at the screen.

  “Right there,” the deputy said, pointing to a woman standing at the counter.

  She wore an oversized pair of sunglasses perched on top the brim of a dark-blue baseball cap. Her auburn hair brushed against her shoulders every time she moved her head. The camera angle only gave a partial side view of her face, but from what the lieutenant could see, it matched the picture of the woman on the driver’s license.

  “Isn’t that Ms. Delaney or whoever she is?” the deputy asked.

  “I’d bet my next paycheck on it, Gray. Can you zoom in on her?”

  “Sure. Give me a sec, sir.” The deputy manipulated the image, enlarging it to the maximum pixels without losing quality.

  Holcomb edged in closer to the screen. “Rewind it and let me see it from where she first walks in.”

  As they watched the woman enter the shop, Holcomb kept his eyes glued on her for any telltale sign or mannerism that would give him a clue to her identity. He chuckled as Clay appeared on the screen, toppling a display of colorful ice chests as he scurried to greet the woman.

  Clay’s back was to the camera so the lieutenant couldn’t gage the expression on his face, but his hands fluttered in the air as he brushed himself off, righted the ice chests, and hurried to the woman’s side. Holcomb keyed in on her reaction. She nodded several times to whatever Clay had to say before following him to the register, her face turned away from the cameras as if she knew they were there.

  “Come on, look up. Show your face, dammit,” Holcomb growled.

  “Doesn’t look like she’s going to cooperate, sir.”

  “No, it doesn’t.” Could she have known about the surveillance cameras? Had she cased the joint earlier, or did she have an accomplice? It doesn’t look like Wesley’s in on it. He’s too flustered to have known her before that day.

  “Gray, we need to confiscate all the surveillance tapes from the day the cameras were first installed up to this point. I want to see if this woman is on any of the earlier tapes.”

  “Got it, sir. I’ll go back to the marina.”

  “Don’t let Wesley give you any flack.”

  “I won’t. Sir, do you think she’s the one we’re looking for? It’s hard to make a positive ID.”

  “I’m certain of it, and she’s wearing a disguise.”

  “How can you tell?”

  “Hair’s too stiff. It’s a w
ig.” Holcomb continued to watch the video of the two at the counter. The woman was outright flirting. Clay’s cheeks flushed every time the woman opened her mouth. He was easy prey for this woman’s manipulation.

  Deputy Gray paused the video. “Right here is where she hands him the fake driver’s license.”

  The lieutenant watched as Ben took the ID and vanished to the back room, leaving the woman alone at the counter. Clay returned to hand her the license, a pen, and the rental agreement. She refused the pen and took one out of her purse.

  She’s smart. No fingerprints. She’s not taking any chances.

  As she signed the paperwork, the sleeve of her shirt rose up to expose a tattoo on her right wrist.

  Holcomb pointed at the screen. “Can you focus in on that area? I need to get a better view of that tattoo.” When the image became clearer, the lieutenant pushed a button on the keyboard, and the printer came alive. He strode across the room to grab two photocopied pages and headed back to his desk with the deputy on his heels.

  “Gray, I want you to canvas every tattoo shop in Sonoma and the surrounding counties,” Holcomb said as he handed his sidekick one of the papers. “See if any of their artists can recognize that design and remember who ordered it. If I’m right, this tattoo is going to break this case wide open.”

  “I’m on it, sir.” The deputy grabbed his gear and scurried through the precinct.

  The lieutenant leaned back in his chair as he stared at the image, tapping his pen on the desk. I’ve seen this tattoo before, but where? Why can’t I remember? The memory was there. If only he could reach it.

  He rubbed the stubble on his chin. He prided himself on meticulous grooming so his unkempt appearance was unusual. This was the first case that had him baffled, so much so that it kept him up at night. He’d known the explosion wasn’t an accident from the beginning. He should have trusted his instincts. He’d lost valuable time, but he felt confident he was closing in on the perpetrator. What he didn’t know was which Rossi was the target, Daniel or Evelyn. Or was it both of them? Everyone he’d interviewed said they were pillars of the community. He hadn’t dug up any dirt on either of them—at least not yet—and he couldn’t find a motive, except money. That would put Brianna Rossi at the top of his list.