Tall Pines Mysteries: A Mystery/Suspense Boxed Set

by Aaron Paul Lazar

  I turned to him, feeling defeated. “Why are you sorry?”

  He sat on the side of the bed, playing with the turquoise bolo he wore around his neck. I’d given it to him last year for Christmas, because it matched his eyes.

  “I’m sorry you’re hurting, babe.”

  I threw some underwear and socks in the suitcase, weeping freely now. “You’re sorry I’m hurting? Then why didn’t you help me fight to keep her? Why did you side with the sister of a rapist and murderer?”

  His lips tightened. “She is a good woman. She is not her brother.”

  “Really? She’s a good woman? Better than me?”

  “No. But she has a closer blood tie than me. She’s the baby’s aunt. I’m a half-uncle.”

  “So? We’re younger. We have a perfect home to raise a child. We’re well off. We live in a gorgeous location.” I swept my hand toward the lake that glistened below. “What more could a child want?” I hiccupped, feeling as if all the air escaped me, leaving me empty. We’d covered this ground before, too many times.

  “She is Seneca, Marcella. She’ll be with family and will be raised with her tribe. It is a good place to grow up. I was raised there. I didn’t turn out so bad, did I?” He tried on a small smile, but it didn’t work.

  “I’m not so sure,” I mumbled. I tossed four pairs of jeans and two sweatshirts in my bag, then grabbed a pile of tee-shirts from the drawer.

  He touched my arm. This time I didn’t pull away. “I didn’t know we were going to Tall Pines. I haven’t even closed the shop.”

  Our antique shop, The Barn, was situated at the top of Cratsley Hill, crammed with furniture. It made us a modest living, but it took up lots of time and since the baby had come, I’d sort of ignored it and let Quinn take over the brunt of the work.

  “You don’t have to close the shop,” I said.

  “Why?” His eyes searched mine.

  “Because,” I said. “You’re not coming with me.” I swiped at my wet cheeks. “I’m going alone.”

  He grew silent, sitting still on the edge of the bed. After a moment, a low moan escaped his lips. “Oh, Marcella. You’ve gotta be kidding. It’ll be cold up there. There’s a storm coming. And the water’s not even turned on.”

  I ripped a few blouses from the closet hangers and tossed them onto the pile of clothes in the suitcase. “I’ll figure it out.”

  He grabbed my arms this time, forcing me to face him. His voice wobbled. “Please. Don’t give up on us. We’ll work through it.”

  For a minute I waffled, feeling the old tug. I wanted to collapse into his arms, feel his strength envelope me. I wanted his warm, sweet breath on my face, his muscled chest pressed tight against me.

  I pushed back. “No.”

  He squeezed my arms tighter. “Please, Marcella. Don’t go.”

  I pulled back and glowered at him. “I’m sorry. I need time alone. Time to think. I’ll call you when I get there.” I took the bag of oils from the bureau and stuffed it in my suitcase. “I’m taking the oils. Sky gave them to me, anyway.”

  His eyes grew moist. “I don’t think you should go alone. It’s a mistake.”

  I zipped the bag and picked it up. “Well, I’m not the only one who’s made a mistake today, am I?” I rolled it into the hall, turning back. He hadn’t turned around. “I’m taking the van, by the way. You can use Thelma’s car.”

  He didn’t come down when I packed Dak’s food and leash, and grabbed supplies from the kitchen cabinets and freezer. Frozen fish, a bag of potatoes, some apples. I wasn’t really thinking, just grabbing. My mother jabbered at me the whole time, but I blocked her out.

  I passed the birdcage and leaned in to say goodbye to Ruby.

  She rubbed her beak against my two fingers. “Gimme cookies,” she squawked, as if nothing was out of the ordinary in this very unordinary day.

  I sprinkled a few seeds into her dish to satisfy her. “I’ll miss you.”

  My mother hovered beside me. “But when will you come back, honey?”

  I turned to hug her. “I don’t know, Thelma.”

  Clucking to Dak, I looked upstairs one more time to find Quinn staring down at me with sad eyes.

  “Marcella.”

  I opened the door and hurried outside. I didn’t know if I was right. I didn’t know if I’d ever recover. All I knew was I had to get away from the pain. Away from all of them. I just needed to get away.

  Chapter 3

  My cell rang two times before I lost the signal in the indigo mountains of the Adirondack Park. It was Quinn, and I didn’t pick up.

  I didn’t know why I’d transferred so much of my anger and disappointment to him. Sure, he hadn’t backed me up. And of course, he had a right to his own take on the situation.

  But he knew—he knew—that I’d been in agony my whole adult life over my inability to bear a child. He’d stood by my side when I’d had my three miscarriages. He’d held my hand during my hysterectomy. And he knew how badly I wanted to have a child with him.

  It hadn’t seemed to bother him as much as it did me. He’d been satisfied with it just being “us,” with our bird and dog, and my mom to keep things interesting. But he knew I would never be happy with my destiny.

  And when fate suddenly twisted and plopped a beautiful baby girl on our doorstep, I’d felt like the Lord had suddenly forgiven me for whatever transgressions I’d done in my past lives and blessed me with the one thing I’d ached for my whole life—a baby.

  It was clear to me now. Quinn didn’t love me enough to stand up for me, to challenge the judge’s ruling. I unzipped the bag of essential oils I’d laid on the console. Brown label…there it was. Sacred Frankincense. I knew Callie was right. I had to use the oils for my own well-being and sanity. I dropped a little on one hand while still managing to steer, then rubbed it liberally over the back of my neck and my temples. The car filled with a glorious smell, and I felt myself relax a little.

  When I reached the intersection of Routes 8 and 30, I turned right and passed Callie and Copper’s A-frame without stopping. Lake Pleasant glimmered silver under the cloudy sky, beautiful in its austere winter dress. I wanted to get to the cabin before dark, and I knew if I stopped to see my friends, I’d be talking for hours.

  The thought hit me again.

  Quinn didn’t love me enough. After eight years of marriage. After all we’d been through together. He chose his heritage over me.

  The thought stung me, deeper now than before. Earlier I’d been overcome with the fresh grief of parting with Kimi. Now the thoughts clarified, and hurt even more.

  Dak sat up in the passenger seat, sensing we were near Tall Pines. He always knew when we were about a mile away.

  “Almost there, schnookums.”

  At twenty past three we bumped over the dirt track leading to the cabin situated on a ledge overlooking the Sacandaga River. All alone on seven wooded acres, far from any other cabins or nosy neighbors, it was our sanctuary.

  Had been our sanctuary, I corrected silently. Maybe now it was just mine.

  About an inch of snow covered the ground, but the conversion van had no trouble making its way up the drive. I parked by the back porch, let Dak out to sniff the ground and pee on the tree trunks, and fished the key out of our secret hiding place.

  The air was cold, but in spite of the bite of the March wind, I felt the refreshing mist of the Sacandaga on my skin. Its soothing sound welcomed me.

  I unlocked the door to the back porch and pushed inside.

  The air temperature in the cabin always seemed colder than outside, and I blamed the thick grouping of tall pines shrouding the cabin from the sun. I shivered. “C’mon, Dak. Let’s get this place livable.”

  I’d never really paid attention when Quinn had drained the pipes and put antifreeze in—wherever he put it. All that guy stuff had seemed boring, and I’d had enough to worry about packing up my own clothing, not forgetting any shoes, stripping the beds, and such.

  I used the f
acilities, but couldn’t flush because there was no water in the tank.

  “Damn.”

  The landline rang.

  I ignored it. Probably Quinn.

  I tried turning the spigots at the bottom of the toilet, but no water came out. I did the same thing in the kitchen under the sink, but again, no dice.

  “Great. No water. Well, at least we’ll have heat soon.” Dak followed me around, watching with approval as I turned the knobs on the electric heating elements.

  No sounds of baseboard creaking met my ears. No heat came out of the panels.

  “Drat. Why aren’t they working?”

  Dak wagged his tail as if he understood me.

  “Do you know how to work these? Huh?” I leaned down to pat him, then glanced at the wood stove.

  “Crud. I don’t know which way to push the damper. Is it up, or down?”

  I pictured filling the cabin with smoke. If I set it wrong, it would be easy to drive us out of the place in a black cloud.

  “I’m calling Callie and Copper.” I walked to the landline and picked it up.

  On the fifth ring, it rolled to voice mail. “This is Callie and Copper. We’re not here right now, but please leave a message at the beep.”

  “Hi, guys. I’m at the cabin. Trying to figure out the water and heat, but it isn’t working. If you have any ideas, give me a buzz, okay?”

  I sat on a chair by the dining room table and thought. A name came into my head, unbidden.

  Sky.

  Callie’s brother was most definitely a man’s man. He’d know how to do all this guy stuff. The last time I’d seen him, he’d been getting physical therapy for an injury that had nearly crippled him. But with the use of therapeutic essential oils, he had healed more quickly and to levels totally unexplained by modern medicine. Last I’d heard he’d been running miles every morning, up and down the mountain behind Charlie Johns store.

  I bet he’d come right over and fix it in no time. Get our water running and get me warm again. I shivered and reached down to hug Dak. “It wouldn’t mean anything, right? We just need a man around here for a few minutes.”

  I’d swear my puppy smiled.

  “Okay, let’s do it.”

  I dialed Sky’s number.

  “Project Hope. Skyler Lissoneau speaking.”

  Sky led the research facility harvesting and testing local lake weeds for essential oils that had proven promising in leukemia trials. A group of oil pioneers and doctors funded the place. I’d forgotten that he’d probably still be at work.

  “Sky? It’s Marcella.”

  His voice hitched, as if I’d taken him completely off guard. “Marcella? Oh, God. It’s so good to hear your voice.” He sounded funny, like something was wrong.

  “Are you okay, Sky?”

  “I’m fine.”

  I didn’t believe his answer, but I let it go. “You still at work?”

  “Yeah. Where are you?”

  “I’m at the cabin. I can’t figure out the darned water pipes and the heat won’t come on.”

  “Where’s Quinn?”

  I hesitated. The words seemed stuck in my throat.

  “Marcella?”

  “Yeah, I’m here. Uh, Quinn’s not here. It’s just me and Dak.”

  He was silent for a minute. I’d never come to Tall Pines alone before.

  “You want me to come over?”

  My eyes filled with tears of relief. “Oh, please. Would you? Can you get away from work?”

  “Heck, yeah. I’m the boss. I’ve already put in over eighty hours this week. I can do whatever I want.”

  “Thank you,” I whispered.

  “What else do you need? You need food? I can stop at Charlie Johns.”

  “Um. Well. I brought some stuff but I don’t know…”

  “Let me pick up a few things. How’s steak and salad sound?”

  “I brought potatoes.” I sounded so lame. I brought potatoes? I reminded myself of Baby in “Dirty Dancing,” when she said, “I carried a watermelon.” I’m such a dope.

  “Butter?”

  “Um, no. Could you…?” I realized how completely inefficiently I’d packed. I didn’t think frozen fish and apples would take me very far.

  “Not a problem. See you in a half hour. If you get too cold, get back in your van and turn on the heater.”

  “Okay.” I shifted the phone to my other ear. “And Sky?”

  “Yeah, Marcie?”

  “Thanks.”

  “No thanks needed. That’s what friends are for, right?”

  I smiled. “Right. See you in a bit.”

  We hung up. I picked up a quilt, draped it over my shoulders, and drifted over to the front porch, opening the shades. I stepped outside and greeted the river, gazing down at the frothy white caps below. The water level was high, and the river’s soft murmur had increased to a roar since the last time we’d been here in October. Still comforting, it spoke to me of times shared with Quinn in the green Adirondack chairs now tethered to the fence with rope.

  Friends.

  Sky and I had been friends since his sister Callie and I were in the same grade. He’d proposed to me in high school, but I’d tearfully declined, preferring to follow my dreams in New York City. I wanted to be a singer. I loved singing.

  I’d almost made it, having had several promising auditions at the Met. But it didn’t happen, and then I’d met Quinn at the Metropolitan Museum of Art. We were engaged and married shortly thereafter.

  Sky hadn’t taken it so well. He’d joined the army, and within several years had gone MIA. We hadn’t found out what happened to him for eighteen years, until he suddenly reappeared last year with stories that made my hair stand on end. Stolen emeralds. A friend tortured to death by terrorists. Hiding out in the Amazon for years, where he met his savior in the form of Dr. Gary Young, the pioneering visionary who founded the an essential oil company, and who let Sky accompany him on his excursions to discover exotic plants in the most remote locales.

  No, Sky hadn’t taken my rejection so well, and when he’d come home, he told me he still loved me.

  That hadn’t worked out so well, either, but we’d agreed to stay friends.

  Friends.

  It was a good thing, right?

  I shivered from the cold and went back inside.

  Chapter 4

  Sky’s blond hair was shaggier and longer than when I’d seen him last, and he sported several days’ worth of stubble. He wore a brown leather coat with jeans and scuffed work boots. Shrugging out of his jacket, he tossed it on the hook near the wood rack. He looked tired. Worn out. But he walked without a limp.

  He smiled. “Marcella.”

  “Hi.” I greeted him with a feeble smile. “Thanks for coming over.”

  He hugged me, smelling of wood smoke and Cedarwood essential oil. “Where the hell is Quinn? And why did he leave you here without water and heat?”

  He didn’t wait for an answer, but opened the door to the utility closet and peered inside. “Breaker panel in here, right?”

  I shrugged. “I’m not sure.” I barely knew what a breaker was, except it was some electrical thing.

  He tugged on the string from the overhead light and nodded. “Pay dirt.”

  “Is that why…”

  “Yeah. You need to turn on the circuits for the baseboard, hot water tank, and water pump. Otherwise you have no power. No power, no water. No heat.”

  I hurried into the bathroom around the corner and tried the faucets. “Still nothing.”

  I found him leaning down near the water heater in the mudroom, just outside the utility closet. “Wait just a sec.” He turned two faucet handles down by the floor, then flipped a few yellow levers. “There. Now your main water’s on, and the outlet to the hot water tank is open.”

  The baseboard in the kitchen and living area started to ping.

  “Oh, thank God. Heat!” I felt like dancing, and the extreme tug of my emotions in one day, from despair to joy a
lmost made me throw up. I was so near tears, I could barely stand it.

  Water started to run in the bathroom, and in a few minutes I had enough in the tank to flush. I quickly pushed the lever and rejoined Sky, who’d gone back outside and returned with groceries.

  I looked at him. His jeans fit well, worn at the bottoms and snug around his hips. He wore an old green and black flannel shirt that complemented his eyes. In a flash, the old memories invaded my brain again. Sky and me together at the State Fair. Our first kiss. Our first time in his parents’ pontoon boat. The rocking waves. The way he took such exquisite care of me, my body, my needs.

  He dumped the bags on the kitchen counter, putting some away and keeping some items out on the shelf. “Quinn’s not coming back?”

  I shook my head. “He didn’t come up this time.”

  He stole a sideways glance, now obviously curious. “Okay…Well, I’ll cook the steaks if you want. No need for both of us to eat alone.”

  So, he still didn’t have a girlfriend to eat dinner with?

  It seemed impossible. Sky is a gorgeous man with a big stout heart and plenty of love to share. Sure, he could be brooding at times, and he’d work himself to death if someone didn’t drag him out of his lab most days, but he was a real catch. Especially up here in the wilderness where there weren’t many young single men around.

  I started to unpack the food I’d brought in from the van earlier, stowing the fish in the freezer and the apples in the crisper. I turned the refrigerator’s cold setting from low to medium, and checked the cabinets. We’d really cleaned them out last fall before we closed Tall Pines for the winter. It was slim pickins. Some canned goods. Stale coffee. Steak sauce. Powdered creamer. A jar of spaghetti sauce. A bottle of olive oil and some seasonings. I’d definitely have to go shopping in the morning.

  I filled a bowl with water for Dak and poured his kibble into another dish. “There you go, sweetie.”

  With big tail wagging, my pal slurped some water and began to devour his supper.

  “He’s grown a lot in six months,” Sky said, looking up from the frying pan. He’d begun to sauté mushrooms and onions in butter, and it smelled fantastic.