Winterbay Abbey

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Winterbay Abbey Page 5

by John Bladek


  “Thanks for your help and for—”

  She shook her head and turned away, ignoring me.

  “Is something wrong?” I asked.

  She turned back with a sigh. “Aren’t you a little old for this? Halloween is over.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” I asked.

  She rolled her eyes. “Most people know when to give up.” She reached under the counter and pulled out a first-aid kit. “That head wound is taking it a bit far. Get yourself cleaned up.”

  The phone rang before I could ask her again what the hell she was talking about. She turned away and picked it up. “Blackwoods Hotel. The 20th? Yes, we have a vacancy then.”

  Taking my cue, I left. I’d had enough for today. But I wondered what sort of small-town insider knowledge I was missing. Martin had mentioned something about kids up at the abbey.

  I walked upstairs, rubbing my head. The clerk was right about one thing. I must have looked like walking death.

  I got to my room, turned up the heat, and jumped in the shower. The hot water made my skin tingle. As water streamed down my face, I replayed the scene from the beach, and my stomach began to ache. I sank to the floor, overcome by the certainty I was too late calling the police, and the nun had drowned.

  About five minutes after I dried off and changed, there was a knock. I opened the door to a man in his mid-forties wearing a blue police uniform.

  “Will Larson?”

  “Yes,” I said, opening the door wider.

  The officer stepped in. “Officer Vaughn. Did you report a drowning?”

  “Yes,” I said. “Out at Winterbay Abbey. Have you found the girl?”

  “We’ve got officers and an ambulance at Winterbay Abbey now, and the Search and Rescue Squad has a boat out.” He glared directly into my eyes. “I take it you’re not from around here.”

  “No,” I said. “I’m from Seattle. I’m here to design a renovation for the abbey.”

  Vaughn nodded. “You’ve got a wound on your head. Have you had it looked at?”

  I winced as I brushed the gash on my forehead. “It’s not as bad as it looks.”

  “Well, you don’t look too good,” he said. “When’s the last time you got any sleep? It’s a long flight from Seattle.”

  “Um, last night,” I said. “Look, you didn’t come here to ask about my health.”

  “No,” he said, reaching into a jacket pocket for a pad and pen. “Why don’t you recount what you saw.”

  I told him the story, the woman, even the strange detail about hearing the boat and the sound of flapping wings.

  The officer’s face remained expressionless. I couldn’t help but notice the broken violet capillaries under his eyes and the red spider veins that webbed across his face. I guess being a cop was hard everywhere.

  “I think she was a nun,” I said.

  “Nun?” He stopped and glanced up from his notes. “Why do you say that?”

  “The way she dressed. Habits, I think they’re called.”

  He tapped his pen on his notepad. “You know how kids dress these days,” he said. “My own daughter only wears black. It’s that whole goth, emo thing, whatever they call it.”

  “I know what I saw. There was nothing fashionable about her clothes.”

  “That’s what I tell my daughter every day.”

  “Are there nuns in the area?” I asked.

  “No,” Officer Vaughn said.

  “Not any?”

  “No.”

  “Well, that was an abbey. Maybe nuns go there sometimes to—”

  He shook his head. “That place has been abandoned for years. The nuns were all transferred away long ago. You couldn’t have seen a nun.”

  “That seems odd. Why not?”

  “They’re all gone.” He tapped a button on his phone. I recognized the distinctive beep. He’d recorded this entire conversation. I thought police were supposed to ask permission before they did that.

  “Okay, fine,” I said. “But I did see a woman down there. And I found a nun’s habit inside the abbey.”

  Vaughn stopped for a moment. “Inside?”

  “Yes.”

  He took a deep breath and muttered, “Damned kids.” Then to me, “Well, we’re looking, as I said.”

  “Kids?” I asked. “Were there some kids out at the abbey or something?”

  “I still have more questions for you,” he said, cutting me off.

  I guess I wasn’t going to get any small-town insider information today.

  “Wait, can you at least tell me if you’ve found a body?” I asked.

  He shook his head. “We’ll keep at it. If no one is reported missing by tomorrow or the next day…” he trailed off.

  “Then what?” I asked.

  “You’re sure it was a girl?” he asked again, still tapping his pen. “You may have seen a sign, or a tree on the beach.”

  “Signs or trees don’t walk into the water.”

  “Why did you leave the scene?” he asked.

  “My cell phone washed away, and I needed to find a phone so I could call the paramedics.”

  Just then my hotel phone rang. “Excuse me one moment,” I said. I picked up the receiver.

  “Is this Will Larson?” a man asked on the other end.

  “Yes.” I didn’t recognize the voice.

  “This is Ted Alderstone. I’m out at Winterbay Abbey.”

  “Oh, yeah, hey,” I said.

  “There’s an ambulance out here, the Coast Guard is searching the bay, and the door to the abbey is wide open. We’ve been trying to track you down. James and I came out today because we knew you were going to be here. Do you want to tell me what is going on at our property?” he asked with an edge to his tone.

  Crap. I scratched the back of my neck, feeling a little warm all of the sudden. “Um, there was an accident.”

  The cop gave me a quizzical look. I wished he’d shown himself the door already. I didn’t appreciate the third degree.

  “Well, we figured that much,” Ted said.

  “Yeah, hey, I’m actually with the police right now. Can I call you back?” I asked.

  “You’re with the police?” Ted asked.

  “Yeah, they needed to ask me a few questions. There was a drowning out in the bay. I can fill you in on the rest soon,” I said.

  He went silent.

  “Hello?” I asked.

  “We’re still expecting to meet with you tomorrow to look over the preliminary ideas and get this all sorted out,” he said.

  Damn it.

  I’d left my drawings on the beach, and I was sure, like my cell phone, they were now long gone. It would take the rest of the day, with time to pick up Emily at the airport, and another night of no sleep to work up some conceptual sketches.

  “Yes, of course,” I said. “I’ll be there bright and early.” The phone clicked.

  “Mr. Larson, I’d like you to come back with me to the abbey. Maybe we can get some better details there and guide the rescue workers,” Vaughn said.

  So much for getting started on those plans. “Of course. Do you have any idea when we might be back here?” I needed all the time I could get, although I felt like a bit of a jerk for asking.

  A blast of static and a voice from the officer’s radio interrupted me. He picked up his radio. “On my way,” he said and quickly clipped it back to his belt. “Not sure how long. Come on,” he said. “Let’s go.”

  chapter eight

  The ride to Winterbay Abbey in the back of a police car was like a night in jail. The bulletproof glass dividing the front and back seats conjured a prison vibe. I wondered what kinds of small-town criminals actually had sat back here.

  I wanted to make small talk, but Officer Vaughn kept asking me questions I’d already answered at the hotel. So much so that I started to wonder if I needed to hire a lawyer. He didn’t think I was making this up, did he?

  We rounded the particularly sharp curve I remembered from earlier this mo
rning and drove across the small wooden bridge. After passing a grove of pines, we came upon the old abbey’s grounds. Winterbay Abbey dominated the landscape.

  Red lights flashed in front of the main entrance. I counted one ambulance, two police cars, and a water rescue truck. No sign of Ted or James’ car, whatever that might be. They must have already left, not knowing I was coming back. In some ways, I wished they hadn’t.

  “They’re waiting on us,” Officer Vaughn said. He pulled into the parking lot and thankfully let me out. I shivered as he shut the car door, wishing I had an extra jacket.

  Two men in the ambulance had their windows down with the heater running full blast.

  “Anything?” Officer Vaughn asked.

  “Nothing. Search and Rescue is still out, though,” the driver said. He stopped and looked at me. “Is this the guy?”

  Vaughn nodded. “That’s him.”

  “I thought Halloween was over,” the driver said, echoing the hotel clerk.

  Vaughn shook his head.

  They both looked at me while I tried to figure out what they meant.

  “Nobody saw Duncan, did they?” Vaughn asked.

  “Not that I know of,” the paramedic said. “That would have made my day.”

  “Mr. Larson, would you mind coming with me, please?” Vaughn asked, hands on his hips like I was the one who had been making him wait.

  “Hey, hold on. What did he mean about Halloween?” I asked. “The clerk at the hotel said something similar.”

  “Childish pranks,” Vaughn said. “Same thing every year. On Halloween, we get the typical kids egging and toilet-papering houses, like everywhere. But we also get girls coming out here. They dress up as nuns to scare each other and make a nuisance. The history of this place, or legends anyway, are somewhat of a local tradition.”

  This must have been what Martin was alluding to.

  “Not very funny if you ask me. But it may explain the nun’s habit you saw inside the abbey. And in all honesty, that ‘drowning’ you witnessed could’ve just been some girl dressed up as a prank,” Vaughn said.

  “That was no prank. And there is no way I’d fly from Seattle to play a joke.”

  Vaughn stopped and spun on me. “I don’t think you played a prank, no. But you may have been fooled by one.”

  “I don’t see it,” I said. “I’m not that gullible.”

  “Well, we’ll see. I haven’t made up my mind about anything. Let’s take a look at the beach and see if you can add any details to your story.”

  Great. Now I knew why I was getting the runaround. Apparently I was either a liar or a fool.

  No one believed a girl had actually died.

  We walked up through the archway and into the courtyard. I heard the sound of a motor out in the water again, very much like the earlier one. Except this came from a big boat marked Berkeley County Search and Rescue. Besides the larger boat, two men in cold-water diving suits slowly drove their inflatable raft along the shore, looking closely at the sea. I spotted two other men dressed like Vaughn in the distance, walking the beach.

  “This is where I first saw the girl.” I tried to focus, thinking twice about each word I said. I wanted to make sure my true story didn’t sound made up.

  Vaughn stared at me.

  “I spotted her down there, on the grass.” I pointed off to the south.

  “How far?”

  “About 150 yards, maybe a little more,” I said.

  Vaughn scratched his stubbled chin. “How much could you see from that distance?”

  “Not much,” I admitted. “That’s why I ran down there to get closer.”

  “Why were you so eager to chase down a girl on the beach?” he asked.

  I shook my head, my jaw clenching. “What’s that supposed to mean?” I asked.

  “Just answer the question,” Vaughn said, glaring at me. “Why did you run after her?”

  I took a quick glance down the beach. The two divers hauled their raft up onto the rocks.

  “I didn’t run at first,” I told him. “I saw she was a nun, and I thought maybe she could tell me about the abbey, about its history.” I left out the freak anxiety attack I had when the girl looked at me. Vaughn already distrusted me. No need to make him question my sanity.

  “There are no nuns here,” Vaughn said.

  “Yeah, so you keep telling me,” I said. “There was a girl on the beach, dressed like a nun, costume or not. I don’t know where she came from. And I saw her wade out into the ocean and not come back. I don’t appreciate being called a liar.”

  Vaughn waved his hands. “Calm down,” he said. “No one’s calling you a liar. It’s just that parts of your story don’t make a lot of sense.” He turned and nodded to the divers, who had walked up behind him. They both shook their heads. Vaughn looked back at me. “Like the fact there was no other car when we first got here. Did you see another car? If the girl had drowned she couldn’t have driven it anywhere, and this place is pretty isolated. It’s a long, cold hike on foot without a car.”

  I shook my head. “I didn’t see any cars. But I did hear a boat. Maybe she was dropped off on shore.”

  Vaughn scratched his chin. “Or picked up. My prank theory could explain that. She had friends, and they drove off in a car, or boat, when you weren’t looking.”

  “But why play a prank on me? What sense does that make? I’m from out of town, no one knows me. Was my itinerary circulated at the high school?”

  Vaughn shrugged. “Kids come out here to play jokes. You showed up, and they played one on you. You see what we’re dealing with here, don’t you? There’s really no indication of anyone besides you being out here.”

  “I don’t know about everything else, but it’s a big ocean.” I pointed to the sign on the beach. “And obviously this is a dangerous spot, with treacherous currents and an undertow. Why would someone drowning be so unbelievable?”

  “Do you know how cold that water is?” Vaughn asked.

  A chill went through my whole body, remembering how icy the surf was. “Yeah, I was in it. Look, is it my job to explain the mental state of people I see drowning before I report it? I didn’t have time to run a psychological analysis to find out if her motivations were believable, or check on her transportation options.”

  “All right,” Vaughn said. “But you see my point. I’m just trying to work through this as best I can. You didn’t actually see the girl drown?”

  I nodded. “I slipped on the rocks and fell in the water. When I came up she was gone.”

  One of the divers spoke up. “Not seeing anything,” he said to Vaughn. Looking at me he added, “I’ve done a lot of searches in these waters. With waves like this, it’s hard to see anyone. The girl may have been out there, and you’d never be able to spot her. A human head is no bigger than a volleyball. And unlike a ball it doesn’t float.”

  Vaughn nodded and looked back at me. “Or more likely when you were in the water, or even after you ran for help, the girl came out and you missed her.”

  The image of the nun’s face, the stabbing glare that seemed to reach in and pull on something, my soul, flashed through my mind. “I don’t think she wanted to get out,” I said.

  Vaughn stopped and stared at me. “What do you mean?”

  “I think she may have drowned herself on purpose,” I said.

  “Suicide?” Vaughn asked. He swallowed and glanced at the divers. “What makes you think that? I thought you weren’t doing psychoanalysis.”

  I sighed. “As you say, the water is too cold for swimming. And the girl walked straight in, no hesitation.”

  Vaughn cleared his throat. “Well, the coroner would have to make that determination, and we’d need a body for that.”

  The diver glanced at Vaughn. “We’ll go back out in a bit, and the Coast Guard will keep searching further out.”

  “Thanks, Nick,” Vaughn said, patting him on the shoulder. “I’ll walk up the beach to see if we missed her washing ashore. If sh
e got swept out, she could show up anywhere in the bay.”

  Vaughn lowered his voice, but I still managed to catch the end of what he said. “Stupid kids….I’m sure nothing will turn up.”

  The diver nodded and glanced at me. “Let’s hope.”

  Vaughn coughed into his fist. “Yeah. Glad Duncan didn’t show up.”

  From what they said I could tell they still thought I had been the butt of a joke. And who was this Duncan they kept mentioning?

  Vaughn looked back at me. “I guess that’s all we need, for now. I have your number at the hotel. Ask the ambulance driver for a ride. We’ll be in touch.”

  Vaughn walked off down the beach, and both divers made their way back to the water. I was thankful no one had asked me to help search for a body.

  As I wandered back to the abbey, I began to question just what I had seen. Could Vaughn be right? Could I have fallen for some teenage post-Halloween prank? Apparently it was a well-practiced ritual around here. Still, I’d gotten very lucky—or unlucky—just wandering by while it was happening. It couldn’t have been planned on my behalf.

  I shook my head. Then I remembered my sketchpad. I didn’t want to have to redo all my work for the meeting with Ted and James tomorrow if I didn’t have to. I’d dropped the pad somewhere in the grass. Maybe it was still here. I started retracing my steps, laying down my best guess for the path I’d taken from the courtyard to the water.

  I spotted the book right away, lying open, the pages bent and damp with sea air. Thank God. I picked it up and flipped to the last sheet I’d been working on to see how well it had survived. It was the restoration drawing of a late-19th-century resort populated by well-to-do vacationers. I’d penned a detailed outline of the building and even a few couples strolling along the beach and sipping drinks in the courtyard restaurant. The page had been bent at one corner.

  I stared at the picture. The elegant resort was no longer there. Instead, the drawing depicted the abbey as it stood now. Decrepit. Old. Each thin ink mark was defined, oddly focusing the entire sketch. Sharp, violent hatch marks scaled the shadowed areas all over the page and on the front of the bell tower was an oculus window.

  My mouth went dry.

 

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