Unveiling the Past

by Kim Vogel Sawyer

  Nineteen

  Carson Springs, Arkansas

  Sean

  “It shouldn’t surprise us that someone else lives at the address from 1998.” Sean leaned into the corner of the sofa and propped his feet up on the attached chaise. He’d called to catch up with Meghan, and hearing her voice, even though she sounded tired, was so welcome. The house was too quiet and empty without her. “But we’re tracking them down. Or, I should say, Farber is. He’s like a fox digging its way into a henhouse. He gives off this unconcerned, almost lazy vibe, but underneath, he’s tenacious. Been good for me to see this side of him.”

  “I’ve been enlightened some, too, working with Greg.” Street noise buzzed through the phone. She wasn’t reclining in her hotel room for their conversation. She’d told him she had to go outside and around the corner from the lobby for privacy. Hardly comfortable. She sighed. “I miss you like crazy, but I’m kind of glad I’m getting the chance to know him better. He’s really a pretty good guy.”

  Sean wasn’t ready to describe Farber as a pretty good guy, but at least he wasn’t seeing him as all bad. “Have you talked any more to your mom? How’d her meeting with Kevin Harrison go?”

  “You’re not going to believe this. She and Grandma agreed to redecorate the loft apartment in the building he bought in Vegas.” Meghan’s stunned tone matched Sean’s gut reaction.

  “What? Why?”

  “She said it just kind of happened, but I don’t know how a person just happens to sign up for a job like that. At least Grandma’s involved, too. She’ll make sure Mom stays safe.”

  Sean frowned. “Has she said something that makes you worry she might not be safe?” He presumed Meghan was speaking of staying safe emotionally, but what did they really know about this man? Other than he’d fathered Meghan, abandoned Diane, and gone on to build a successful business for himself.

  “It’s not so much what she’s said. I mean, we’ve only talked through text messages—I didn’t want Sheila or Greg hearing my side of what’s bound to be a personal discussion, so I texted while Sheila was napping this afternoon. But agreeing to work for him is bound to put them in regular contact. I’m not sure how I feel about that. Still…”

  Something changed in her voice. Hesitance? Introspection? He wasn’t sure, but his detective instincts revved into high gear. “What are you thinking?”

  He waited, but she didn’t answer. If it weren’t for the traffic noises still coming through the connection, he’d wonder if she hung up. “Meg?”

  “It’s too complicated to sort through right now. And I’d rather have that talk when we’re together, okay?”

  Even though his worry increased, he shouldn’t keep her much longer. She’d already stood outside for half an hour. “Okay. I’ll put it on the calendar for your first night home.” His attempt at humor worked. She laughed.

  “Sounds good. Sheila agreed to stay in the hotel room tomorrow when Greg and I return to the bank. Hopefully the reps will be more forthcoming with information. He and I want to review some notes before we turn in, so I better let you go.” A pause, then a trembling “I love you” made his heart roll over.

  “I love you, too, babe. I’ll talk to you again tomorrow night, okay?”

  “Okay. Bye.”

  He disconnected the call, and immediately his phone rang. Farber’s number flashed on the screen. Sean hit Accept Call. “Hey. What’s up?”

  “My blood pressure.”

  After listening to Meghan’s sweet voice, Farber’s growl was an attack. Sean cringed. “Why? What’s going on?”

  “I’ve found obituaries for Clark and Hilda, so we won’t get any help from either of them.”

  Sean searched his memory. Ah, Clark and Hilda Dunsbrook—Stony’s parents. “We’ve encountered roadblocks like that in other cases. Now we know to look for Stony himself.”

  “That’s the thing.” Farber’s aggravation carried clearly through the connection. “Other than his name listed as a survivor in his father’s obit back in 1983, there are no other online hits for the man. No place of employment. No record of traffic tickets. No address. It’s as if he doesn’t exist.”

  When Sean had called the detective tenacious, he hadn’t realized how accurate his statement was. He assumed what he hoped was a calming tone. “We’ve got access to more information on the department computers. If he changed his name or ended up in a witness-protection program, we’ll be able to find out. Why not set it aside for now and get some rest?” He forced a chuckle. “Your blood pressure will thank you.”

  Farber grunted. “No offense, Beagle, but I wanna get this thing wrapped up so I can cut you loose.”

  Why did every statement that started out “No offense, but” end up being an insult? Sean started to snap that working with Farber was no picnic, either, but the prayers he’d uttered for patience paid off. He scooted to the edge of the sofa and stood. “Obviously you don’t have any choice except to let it go for now. So let’s start fresh again in the morning. I’ll pray for clear minds and—”

  “Beagle, if you talk religion to me again when we’re on the job, I’ll file a suit.”

  Sean gave a jolt. Had he mentioned religion? He replayed his comments and inwardly groaned. The habit of prayer was so natural that he hadn’t thought twice about praying. But he shouldn’t have said it out loud. He knew Farber’s feelings. Still, Sean didn’t believe he’d done anything wrong. After all, they weren’t on the job, and he hadn’t preached Jesus’s name to the detective. But to keep peace, he should apologize. “I—”

  His phone screen went blank. Sean dropped back on the sofa, covered his eyes with the back of his forearm, and sighed. Lord, let him cool off by morning. Help me guard my tongue. And let us find Stony Dunsbrook as fast as possible so I can shed Farber.

  His conscience pricked. He dropped his arm and looked at the starry sky outside his living room window. That’s what I want. But let Your will be done, Father. Your will, whatever that is.

  Las Vegas, Nevada

  Diane

  Diane pinched the credit card the way she’d pinch the scruff of a dead rat’s neck and stared at Kevin across Mother’s coffee table. She’d invited him to the house for a midmorning meeting to discuss details about the apartment, but she hadn’t expected him to give her so much responsibility. “Did…did you say forty-thousand-dollar limit?”

  He glanced at the card and then returned his blue-eyed gaze to her face. “Yes. I’m sure it won’t be enough, especially if you make major changes to the kitchen or bathroom, but I’ll track the balance online and keep it paid up so it won’t slow down your progress. Consider your budget double that amount.”

  Diane nearly spluttered. She sent an aghast look in Mother’s direction, and Mother returned it with a disbelieving shrug. She turned to Kevin again. “I furnished and decorated my entire apartment in Little Rock for a tenth of this card’s limit.” Of course, she’d shopped secondhand stores and yard sales. Even so…She stared at the rectangle of plastic. What if she lost it? She thrust the card at him. “It’s too much, Kevin. I don’t want to be responsible for it.”

  He shook his head. “Keep it.”

  She slapped it onto the table. The trio of dachshunds drowsing on the opposite half of the sofa lifted their pointed noses and snuffled. She absently patted the closest one’s head. “I can’t. I won’t.” The dogs settled, and she waved her hand at the card as if stirring embers to life. “That’s equal to two years of my teaching salary. If I lost it, I’d—”

  “Two years of…” Now he gaped at her. “Are you telling me you only make twenty thousand a year as a teacher? That’s ludicrous for someone with a master’s degree.”

  “I teach at a small private high school. They don’t have federal funding.”

  “Why would you waste your life that way?”

  Defensiveness struck with forc
e. She folded her arms over her chest. “I don’t consider investing in the lives of our country’s future leaders a waste.”

  “But—”

  Mother cleared her throat. “Kevin, rather than giving Margaret Diane carte blanche with your credit card, perhaps she could make selections in stores or online, share them with you, and allow you to make the actual purchases.”

  He didn’t seem to hear her. His gaze remained locked on Diane. “Did you make more than 20K before you moved to Nevada?”

  Diane frowned. “I don’t think my salary is your business, Kevin.”

  He wilted against the backrest of his chair. “How did you raise a child on such a minimal amount? Were you ever able to take her to Disneyland? Buy her braces? Enroll her in dance classes?”

  Diane turned her focus to the dachshunds, unwilling to meet his dumbfounded gaze. She hadn’t given Meghan extras. Certainly none of the experiences she herself had enjoyed as a child. Mother hadn’t been extravagant, but neither had she been stingy. More than once, Mother had offered to fund activities for Meghan, but Diane had always stubbornly refused, not wanting to accept “charity,” especially from Mother. Meghan didn’t seem to hold a grudge, and Diane had tried to set aside regret for denying her daughter the extras many of her friends received, but Kevin’s queries sent a boulder of guilt rolling through her.

  “Diane, I’m sorry.”

  The sincere admission startled her into looking at him. True remorse glimmered in his eyes.

  “I should’ve helped you. I should’ve…supported her. I was stupid and wrong.” He drew in a deep breath and released it in a whoosh, shaking his head. “I’m really sorry.”

  Why was it easier to face off with the overly confident Kevin? She lifted her chin and shrugged. “It’s in the past. Obviously Meghan grew up okay. We might not have had luxuries, but we never went hungry, and we were always adequately clothed and sheltered. There’s no sense in worrying about it now.”

  “That’s exactly right.” Mother’s stalwart tone drew their attention. “ ‘My God will meet all your needs according to the riches of his glory in Christ Jesus.’ That’s Philippians 4:19, and I’ve always found it to be true. As have Margaret Diane and Meghan.” She smiled, her eyes crinkling in the corners. “Sometimes it’s a blessing not to have an overabundance of wealth.”

  Kevin huffed. “How so?”

  “Oh, those who have much always seem to want something more or better. Those who have little tend to appreciate what they have. Even Socrates said, ‘Contentment is natural wealth, luxury is artificial poverty.’ It comes down to a matter of contentment.” She tilted her head and pinned Kevin with a pensive look. “Are you content with what you have, Kevin?”

  “Of course I am.” He spoke with force, as if trying to convince himself. “And acquiring this building in Las Vegas makes me even more content. Or it will when it’s filled with vendors and the apartment is ready for lease.” He jerked his focus to Diane. “Which brings me back to decorating it. I want you to take this card”—he slid it across the table’s smooth surface—“and use it at your discretion to make the apartment aesthetically appealing, up to date, and warmly inviting. If I’m to get top dollar in rent, the place needs an overhaul, and I trust you to do it right.”

  She sighed. “Kevin, I don’t know.”

  He offered his engaging, convincing, heart-melting smile. “I do know. You and your mom were throwing around great ideas. Make them happen.”

  Diane looked at Mother.

  Mother held out her hands in a gesture of defeat. “It’s up to you, dear. It might be fun to play with someone else’s money. And it will be a way to occupy yourself this summer.”

  Diane gingerly picked up the credit card and held it in front of her like a shield. “Have you contacted your credit card company? I don’t want to be accused of fraud the first time I try to use this thing.”

  His face lit. “Does that mean you’ll do it?”

  She might live to regret it, but she did need a distraction. And who knew how the experience might be of use someday? Mother always said God didn’t waste anything in their lives. “Yes. We’ll do it.”

  He whooped and punched the air. The dachshunds came to life, yipping and jumping on the cushions. He cringed. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to get them all stirred up.”

  “Here, now! Miney, Duchess, Molly…settle down. We aren’t under attack.” Mother’s firm voice ended the melee. They whined but flopped into a furry bundle again and stared at Kevin with round brown eyes. Mother turned her attention to Kevin. “When do you want us to start?”

  He stroked his stubbled chin. Diane had no idea how he maintained that slight shadow of whiskers, but it gave him a rugged appearance she found hard to ignore. “I have a meeting this afternoon to get a building permit. As soon as I have that in hand, the plumber and electrician are ready to go in and do what needs doing. The plumber agreed to start at the top and work his way down, so he should be out of the apartment by the end of this week if all goes well.” He sat up and crossed his leg in the relaxed way men did—ankle on knee. “Obviously you can start planning right away, but you might want to hold off on doing any actual work until after the first of June. Then you won’t have to worry about tripping over the plumber. But there is one small condition.”

  Diane fingered the credit card. “I won’t do anything too girlie.” As soon as the words were out, she regretted them. Why take a deliberate foray into the past? She waited for him to cringe, but instead a knowing smile softened his expression.

  “I trust you on that. No, it’s this.” He slipped his fingers into the patch pocket of his shirt and withdrew a folded piece of paper. A check? Her pulse skittered into double beats. He placed it on the coffee table and held it in place with his fingertip. “Your fee. And before you argue, keep in mind I would’ve paid a professional designer four times the amount on this thing. It’s really more a token than anything.”

  Diane stared at the check, then aimed an uncertain grimace at him. “Kevin…”

  “I’ll kick you off the job if you refuse.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Mother, what do you think?”

  An impish grin formed on Mother’s face. “A workman is worthy of his—or should I say her?—hire.”

  Diane squelched a chortle and faced Kevin. “All right.” If it was too much, she wouldn’t cash it.

  “Good.” He rose and paced back and forth, the watchful gazes of the dachshund trio following his progress. “I’ve got the names and numbers of a couple of general contractors who’re interested in helping if you decide to tear up flooring or change the shape of the doorways, like you mentioned. I’ll text those to you later today, and—oh, yeah…” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a ring of keys. He handed them to Diane. “The key to the front door is marked with a one, the apartment itself has a two, and the one marked three unlocks the elevator. Please keep the elevator locked when it’s not in use. A simple safeguard.”

  Diane bounced the keys in her palm. She released an amused huff. “Seems like they should weigh more, considering what they go to.”

  “Welcome to the world of corporate investment.” He pointed to the keys. “There is a lot of responsibility resting in your hand, but there’s a lot of pleasure in seeing an empty building come to life again.” His eyes gleamed, and his chest puffed. “This acquisition exceeds anything my old man ever did. And I did it without bending a single law or paying one cent in bribes.” He gave a jolt, and he turned a startled look from Mother to Diane. Then a nervous smile replaced the strange expression. “As I said, I have a meeting at the city building, so I’ll scoot. Thanks for breakfast, thanks for agreeing to decorate the apartment, and thanks for…Well, thanks for letting me back into your life. It’s been beneficial to me. I hope it proves so for you, given time. I’ll be in touch.” He departed, waving as he closed the door behind hi
m.

  Diane placed the keys and credit card on the end table between the sofa and Mother’s chair. Mother gazed at the items. Her brow puckered. Diane tipped her head and peeked at her mother. “Are you okay?”

  “Yes. But something he just said…” She nestled into her chair and linked her hands in her lap. “That man thinks he has it all, but he doesn’t. Not even close to all. Are you praying for him, the way you said you would?”

  “Yes, for his salvation.” She wasn’t sure what else to ask for, since she wasn’t sure if she really wanted him becoming a fixture in Meghan’s life. Because that would mean, by default, he’d become a fixture in hers.

  “And God’s will.”

  Mother spoke so softly that Diane wasn’t sure she’d meant to say it out loud. Diane didn’t answer, but she rolled the comment around in her mind. God’s will sometimes took her places she wouldn’t choose to go. She’d stick to praying for Kevin’s salvation. She wasn’t ready to commit to the other.

  Twenty

  Fort Smith, Arkansas

  Meghan

  Meghan and Greg had hoped the bank representatives would be forthcoming with answers if Sheila wasn’t in the room, and so far they’d come through. But Meghan wasn’t satisfied with their answers. Why did it seem as though they were reciting from a memorized script?

  Certain phrases—“always worried about money,” “complained about lots of doctor bills,” “extra quiet and standoffish those last days”—popped up repeatedly even if the question didn’t require that particular response. The longer she and Greg remained with them, the more uncomfortable she grew, despite the fact that the men seemed sincere and willing to cooperate.

  After an hour and a half, Greg snapped the lid of his laptop closed. “Thank you, gentlemen. I know we’ll have more questions as we go over the files from the Arkansas Bureau of Investigation, but for now we’ll let you get back to work.”