Mermaids of Bodega Bay

by Mary Birk

  At almost midnight, his eyes tired from reading, Reid found himself wandering through the house. Incredible pieces of art appeared throughout the house, not the least of which were the paintings of Marisol Grainger. In one, set back in an alcove in the dining room, Marisol was nude, her lithe body stretched out in a dancer’s pose. The dead woman looked so real that you almost felt like you could put your arms out and hold her.

  The man could paint, Reid had to give him that, but there was only one woman Reid wanted like that, and she was alive. Alive and nearby—but also, far away.

  Reid went by the study where Grainger was supposed to be sleeping and saw the light still on. He stopped at the door and looked in. The other man was sitting on the couch, looking drained and distracted.

  A hard man to hate. “How are you doing?”

  Grainger looked up and shook his head. “I was trying to make myself sleep for a few minutes—but I’m afraid to. I don’t want to miss hearing if anything happens.”

  “There’s nothing you can do right now. You need to get some rest for tomorrow. It’s likely to be another long day.”

  “I feel like I should be out there searching.” Grainger gestured towards the windows. “Staying in here feels like I’m letting Lenore down. That she’s waiting for me to find her. Counting on me.” He put his hand on his forehead. “God, where is she?”

  “You’re doing everything you can.”

  “I wish I believed that. I know that not receiving a call from the kidnappers is a very bad sign. No call means they aren’t interested enough in the money to keep Lenore alive.”

  “Not always. Sometimes they do this to torture the parents. It’s a power thing.”

  Grainger’s face showed his lack of trust in what Reid said. “I thought losing Marisol was the hardest thing I’d ever have to endure, but this is worse. So much worse.”

  Reid couldn’t think of anything to say that would help. “You should sleep.”

  “I will eventually. I need to call my father and let him know what’s going on. I wanted to wait until there was some good news.”

  “You called Anne?”

  “Yes. I told her they didn’t call.” Grainger looked away. “I hope Anne and me—our relationship—doesn’t make you uncomfortable. I know you two are still friends. But I have to admit, it feels awkward to me.”

  Reid nodded. That was an understatement. “To me, too.”

  “To her as well. At least, she doesn’t feel comfortable being over here with both of us here.”

  Reid didn’t say anything. Good, he thought, I hope she feels damned uncomfortable and stays away.

  Grainger closed his eyes. “God, where is she?” Reid knew the man was talking about his daughter, not Anne. “I just don’t have any feeling for where she is. You’d think when you have a connection with someone that’s as deep as it is with your child, that you would know. But I have no idea at all. It feels like I’m drifting around in the dark.”

  Reid had always thought that, too. That you would have that kind of feeling about your children, but as he had no children, and if he lost Anne, probably would never have any children, he couldn’t say.

  Grainger said, “I’m probably closer to Lenore because I had to raise her by myself. Without Lenore, after Marisol died I would have lost myself in my work. Without her, and now, Anne. Lenore loves Anne.” He sighed. “Anne’s great with children.”

  Reid nodded numbly. Did he even know this about Anne? He’d hardly seen her around children. There was so much about Anne and her life that he did not know anything about.

  Grainger didn’t seem to notice his silence. “I don’t know if Anne has shared this with you yet, but I’ve asked her to marry me. She hasn’t accepted yet, but I’m hopeful. It will be good for Lenore to have a mother again.”

  Reid felt himself stiffen, and struggled to keep his face from showing the impact of what the man had said.

  They had indeed been talking about getting married, and she hadn’t told him.

  Reid didn’t know what to say, so said only, “Whatever Anne wants to do.” Then getting up, he put his hand on the man’s shoulder. “You should try to sleep. There’s nothing else you can do tonight.”

  *****

  Reid went to the kitchen and poured himself a brandy, eyed it, then sloshed another measure of the golden liquid into his glass. How had he let this happen? He’d just told her he was done with her and assumed she would come to him, begging to be taken back. She’d tried to reach out to him multiple times, but when it wasn’t everything he wanted, he ignored her, waiting for her complete capitulation to his conditions. Instead, she did what he’d told her to do, and went on with her life without him.

  He hadn’t expected that. He’d been sure it was just a matter of time before she’d give in. He had stupidly thought this battle of wills between them was something he could win by just waiting her out. Because he knew she was the only woman he wanted, he assumed she felt the same way about him. He had not for one moment, not until he’d seen that magazine photograph, thought she could possibly think of being with another man.

  Obviously, he’d been wrong. He felt terrible about what Andrew Grainger was going through, but he wasn’t willing to give him Anne. Or to go away. She would have to tell him herself if she wanted him to go away—and she had asked him to stay. Maybe not for the reasons he would have wanted, but he was here now.

  Suddenly he needed to hear her voice. He looked at the clock. Why not? What did he have to lose? Faint heart never won fair maiden. He dialed Anne’s mobile and tried to ignore the pounding of his heart while he waited for her to answer.

  Her voice was sleepy. “Hello?”

  “It’s Terrence.”

  “Terrence?” Then suddenly she was awake. “Has anything happened?”

  “No. No news.”

  “Nothing?”

  “No.”

  There was quiet, then she spoke. “That’s very bad, isn’t it?”

  “Aye.”

  After a long pause, she said, “Why are you calling?”

  “I just wanted to call you.”

  “You just wanted to call me? It’s almost one.” She sounded confused.

  “I know. I wanted to hear your voice.”

  Silence, then, “Are you doing okay?”

  The softness in her voice sent a rush of longing through him. He tried to imagine what she looked like. She would have her head on her pillow, her golden hair mussed from sleep. He wanted to touch that soft cloud of hair and put his mouth on her neck, feel the softness of her skin and trace his finger along the taut tendons of her neck.

  He swallowed, nervous about what she might say to this next question, but kept his voice casual. “Grainger says he’s asked you to marry him?”

  There was a long silence. His heart thundered against his chest.

  “Terrence, do we have to talk about this now?” Her breath seemed to come across the line to him, and he could picture her biting down on her bottom lip with those perfect white teeth.

  He closed his eyes, and without letting himself think, ripped off the protective armor he kept around his heart and let his pain bleed without restraint into his voice. “I just don’t want you to forget you’re still married to me, lass.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “We need to talk, girl.”

  “I know.”

  He took a quick gulp of air. “I need to see you. Not tonight, but soon.”

  “All right.”

  He held the phone and just listened to her breathe, not wanting the call, and his connection to her, to end.

  Finally, she spoke, her voice no more than a whisper. “Are you still there?”

  “I’ll call when we know what’s going on with the child. Go back to sleep now.”

  “Good night, Terrence.” The tenderness in her whisper grabbed his heart.

  “Guid night, girl.”

  The connection died and he hung his head.

  DAY THREE – MONDAY


  FEBRUARY 16

  Chapter 26

  ANNE DRESSED as warmly as she could, corralled the dogs into the car, and drove to the trailhead leading to the path on Bodega Head that went to Horseshoe Cove. After parking the car at the bottom of the trailhead, she let the dogs out. They bounded out of the car and began sniffing everything in sight.

  A gray sky hung over Bodega Bay, its reflection coloring the sea and the waves crashing against the rocky shore. The gloom made the day seem like the dead of winter although according to the calendar, spring would be arriving soon. Even as far up from the water as she was, her face and hair were quickly wet from the salt spray and the moisture in the wind.

  The dogs almost knocked her over in their hurry to get to the steep path that went down to the cove. She gave up, stepping aside to let them race ahead. They seemed to instinctively know where to place their feet so they wouldn’t fall, but Anne, not having those same instincts, had to watch her every step. Descending carefully, she kept her eyes on the rough path, periodically glancing up to watch the dogs, trying to make sure they didn’t get into anything smelly that had washed up on the beach. She’d had that happen before, and it made for an awful ride home, not to mention all the extra work to bathe the two big dogs and clean the inside of the car.

  Anne stopped and cupped her hand over her eyes, surveying the beach and the sea from her vantage point on the cliff side. There were a couple of boats in the distance. Sea gulls cried and swooped down to the gray foaming water. The mournful sound of the gulls made Anne think about Lenore. No one had called from the Colony that morning. That could either be a good sign—that they were in the process of getting the child back—or a bad sign—that perhaps they’d been up all night with no contact from the kidnappers. No, Lenore was all right, she had to be, they would get her back and Bodega Bay would go back to being the safe, wonderful place it had always been. For Lenore and for Anne.

  Anne had come back to Bodega Bay broken and she’d been healed. Then she’d started seeing Andrew Grainger. She’d shared with him her excitement about the restoration of important gardens and chided him that the Colony had let its gardens, an important Beatrix Farrand design, fall into disarray. He’d told her the famous garden designer had been friends with his grandfather, James Grainger, a celebrated illustrator and founder of the Grainger Art Colony. Convinced by Anne’s argument, and with the approval of the Colony’s Board of Directors, Andrew put the project out for proposals to restore the Colony gardens to their original splendor.

  She wasn’t naïve; doubtless his interest in her was one of the motivating factors for him in choosing the proposal her firm had submitted. But when she protested, he justified his decision by saying she’d been the one to point out to him that neglecting the gardens would result in the loss of an important historical and aesthetic feature of the Colony. Plus, he’d said, with a logic that was hard to argue with, if you couldn’t give out work to help people you liked and wanted to succeed, what was the use in being in charge?

  Her firm certainly hadn’t seemed to mind that her family connections, or even her relationship with Andrew Grainger, had played a part in bringing in the job. Her mentor at the firm had insisted she was ready—and the project was going well. The one departure from the original design Andrew had insisted upon was that she incorporate the many outdoor sculptures the Colony had acquired during the intervening years. That had been a challenge, but one she’d enjoyed.

  Breathing in the smell of the sea, she continued walking, wondering again what was going on over at the Colony. She tried not to think about Terrence and Andrew being together all night at the Colony. Maybe she should have told Terrence before that Andrew had asked her to marry him, but she really didn’t see that it was any of his business anymore. What the hell had happened to the annulment he was supposed to be getting? And what was that late night phone call about? Terrence had sounded so much like the old Terrence, the one she’d fallen in love with and married. But she would not let Terrence torment her with hope again. She’d survived, she’d rebuilt, and she’d moved on. If only Lenore was okay, Anne could handle whatever else life sent her way. Even Terrence.

  Anne brought her attention back to the present and realized she’d lost track of the dogs. She scanned the area and was relieved to see them just reaching the cove below. From where she stood on the steep, rocky path she could see a heap of clothes that had washed up on the sandy strip of beach. She clucked her tongue in disgust. She hated when trash despoiled the beautiful clean coast. Seeing the dogs running to investigate the pile, Anne hurried down the rest of the path. She walked briskly toward them, determined to stop them from rolling in anything objectionable.

  Then her eyes focused and dread made her breathing slow. She wanted to run in the other direction, but instead tentatively approached the soggy mess. Her heart seized up in sharp, painful constrictions. Oh, no, please God, no. Let this not be what she thought, please, God, no. Then just the word “no” raced through her mind, over and over, in a desperate chant.

  She tried to order the dogs away, but her voice, sounding far away, caught in her throat. The pile of dark navy blue clothing was punctuated by the unmistakable pattern of gold stars. Inside the clothing was a small body, and what Anne had thought was string, was hair. Dark brown hair. The water lapped up and over the top of the limp, tiny water-soaked body.

  Chapter 27

  DROPPING TO HER KNEES, Anne frantically turned the little girl’s body over, raising her face out of the wet sand. The limp, grayish cast of the child’s skin told Anne that death had already claimed Lenore. Nonetheless, Anne, praying she was wrong, yanked off her gloves and determinedly opened the small thin blue lips. Covering Lenore’s mouth with her own, all the while knowing it could do no good, Anne blew in deep, steady breaths, trying to remember what she’d learned in lifeguard training.

  She couldn’t tell if the salty taste in her mouth was from the water or from her own tears leaking into her mouth. She blew again into the little mouth. No response. And from the staring eyes and lifeless body, Anne knew with an infinite sadness that there would never be any response.

  If there were anyone around, she would have screamed for help. But even if there were someone on the other side of the cliff, they would not be able to hear her voice over the overwhelming noise of the waves and wind. She couldn’t call anyone; her cell phone had no reception down here. She wanted desperately to lift the Lenore’s body out of the cold reach of the waves, but knew she shouldn’t move her. Instead, Anne ran, stumbling, and grabbed the dogs. She clipped their leads to their collars and took them with her up the path, afraid that if she left them loose they might, in their curiosity, disturb the child’s body.

  As soon as she got to a point where her cell phone indicated it had reception, she hit redial. Terrence picked up after the third ring.

  “Anne?”

  The static on the line made it hard for her to hear him. “Can you hear me?”

  “Just barely. Can you speak up, girl?”

  “I’ve found Lenore. Oh, God, Terrence, she’s dead.”

  “Where are you?”

  “Horseshoe Cove, on the Head.” Just then the reception died out. She didn’t know if Terrence had heard the last part.

  Anne was torn between going back down to guard Lenore’s body and going to where she had better cell reception. Tears ran down her face. She didn’t know if she’d ever cried so hard in her life. Then her phone, apparently picking up a signal again, rang.

  Terrence’s voice came through with a lot of static. “Anne, talk to Dougal quickly before we lose reception again. Tell him where you are.”

  The chief got on the line. “You’ve found Lenore?”

  Anne gulped air down, catching her breath. Then her words tumbled out, falling over each other. “On the beach at Horseshoe Cove. I’m up on the path where I can get a signal. I can see her from here, though. I was afraid to leave her in the water because I thought the tide might carry
her back out to sea. But I didn’t think I should move her. It’s low tide now, but please hurry.”

  “Are you sure she’s dead? Not just unconscious?” The chief’s voice held hesitant hope.

  “I’m sure.” Anne forced her voice out over the hard raw lump in her throat. “I tried to resuscitate her but there was nothing, no response. Oh, God, poor Andrew. Please hurry, please.”

  “Hold tight. We’ll be there in a few minutes.”

  “Okay.”

  “Don’t touch anything else, and don’t let anyone else touch anything until we get there, understand?”

  “There’s no one here but the dogs and me.” Anne glanced down to where the leashed dogs lay by her feet, resigned at not being able to run. She had never felt as alone as she did now. “I’m walking back down the path to stay near Lenore. But I won’t touch anything. Please come soon.”

  Anne disconnected the call and, leading the dogs firmly on their leashes, put them in her car. She hiked back down to the bleak site where Lenore lay, sat down next to the little body on the wet sand, and waited.

  Waited and wept.

  Chapter 28

  ANNE WATCHED Dougal and Terrence arrive at the top of the cliff in a jeep followed by two more vehicles equipped for off road driving. They got out and slowly descended the narrow path, with Terrence in the lead. When he reached the bottom of the path, she got up and ran to her husband. He immediately took her into his arms.

  “You all right, lass?”

  “No,” She couldn’t stop her tears. “I can’t believe she’s dead.”

  He stroked her hair, his finger circling the curve of her ear. “I know, I know.” She felt him kissing the top of her head while she cried. After a long silence, he spoke again, his voice gentle. “I’m so sorry, girl, but right now I need you to go on up to the top of the path so we can finish with the scene and take care of Lenore, all right?” He turned her head up towards him and touched her face to wipe the tears from her cheeks, then kissed her lightly on the mouth.