by Danni Roan
“As far as I know all of his personal belongings are still in the truck.” A long pause told Susan that something more needed to be said, and she waited, placing the two large lattes on the table and adjusting her phone. “Miss Holmes, do you know of anyone who might want to hurt Mr. Watkins?”
Susan stood staring out the window of the breakfast nook her eye glazed as she felt the weight of the words.
“Ms. Holmes, are you still there?”
“Yes. I mean no. I don’t know. Mr. Watkins and I were in the mountains yesterday looking for clues to his grandfather’s disappearance. We thought we might have found something, but this doesn’t make sense.”
“What doesn’t make sense?” Alana Holmes walked into the capacious kitchen snatching a coffee with a grin.
Covering the phone with her hand Susan turned to her grandmother. “Mr. Watkins was in an accident last night.” She held up a finger as the officer on the other end of the line spoke once more.
“Did you find anything?”
Susan glanced at her grandmother who was busy peeling the plastic lid off her cup and pouring the contents into a large mug. “No,” she lied. “We didn’t find anything. I told him there wouldn’t be anything up there after all these years. I was just humoring him. He seemed very upset.”
“Thank you,” the officer’s voice was calm. “I’ll let you know if there are any further developments.” As the phone went dead, Susan sagged into the nearest chair. Had someone tried to kill the man she was helping?
“What’s wrong?” Gram took a seat across from her flinching when Susan sipped from the large paper cup.
“Mr. Watkins was hit by another car last night on his way home. “It sounds like a hit and run, but the man I spoke to wanted to know if anyone might want to hurt David.”
“They think it was intentional?”
“Apparently.”
Gram looked down into her mug, then back up at her granddaughter. “What do you think it means?”
“I think it means someone doesn’t want us to discover what happened to Harcourt Watkins all those years ago.”
“What will you do?” Alana leaned toward Susan. “Maybe you should go see your young man and make sure he’s alright.”
“He is not my young man,” Susan snipped. “I’m simply trying to solve this mystery, and he might be able to help.”
“You should still go see him.” Alana touched at her hair in annoyance. “What if someone thinks he knows something, or what if he knows something, but doesn’t know he knows it?”
Susan felt a headache behind her eyes and sagged taking a large gulp of her coffee and reaching for a banana muffin. “I’ll go. After all he’s the one who has those bits of glass we found on the site. He was very methodical about searching the area.”
Gram stood, walking to the tall bank of glass fronted cabinets that made up the butler’s pantry, taking down a small gold framed photo. “Who would have believed that finding two lost horses in the national forest all those years ago could cause so much trouble?” she smiled looking down at the bay paint horse in the picture. “He was a sweet little terror, that horse. If only he had been able to speak, none of this would be necessary.”
Susan rose from the table walking to her grandmother and wrapping an arm around the trim woman’s waist. “We’ll figure it out Gram. We’ll know why those horses were left to fend for themselves, and how they connect to the disappearance of Old Mr. Watkins.”
“You just be careful,” Gram said pulling her sweet little Susan into her arms. “I don’t know what I’d do if something happened to you.”
“Nothing is going to happen to me,” Susan assured. “I’m sure this accident is simply some drunk driver who fled the scene. It probably has nothing to do with what David and I were doing yesterday.” The words felt hollow on her lips even as Susan spoke them. There was more to this age-old mystery than she had ever believed, and she needed to see Mr. Watkins. She needed to make sure his journal and the bright shards of glass were safe. They were the only clue they had to go on, and she wasn’t letting them slip by.
Slowly slipping back into her seat at the small oak table, Susan smiled. “Come finish your breakfast, Gram,” she insisted. “I didn’t go all the way to the bakery for nothing you know.”
“You might have,” Alana grumbled picking up the oversized muffin and examining it. “I’m not sure this second generation of bakers is as good as the first. That bakery has been a part of this town for as long as I remember, and I do hate to see it fading away.”
Susan’s chuckle was full of cheer as she watched her grandmother nibble the pecan-pumpkin muffin. Perhaps the old timers who used to run the bakery had retired, but the food was still good.
“Knock, knock!” Susan tried to infuse her voice with a wealth of cheer. “I brought gifts.” She pushed into the hospital room where David sat upright in a hospital bed, his emergency issued gown far less faded than the tan on his face.
“Gifts?” David spoke through the dull thud in his brain.
“Gifts,” Susan’s smile was bright as she lifted a paper cup in one hand and an orange cranberry muffin in the other.
“Thank you,” David groaned as his mouth began to water. “That is the best bakery in town.”
“In town?” Susan teased holding the items away from him. “Don’t you mean in the world?”
“I haven’t been out in the world,” the corners of David’s mouth turned up in a grin. “I just know that anything beats hospital food, and that bakery has the best of everything.”
“Good enough,” Susan placed the muffin and coffee on the table across the man’s lap. He looked pale, and a dark bruise showed along the side of his face.
“Thanks,” David’s eyes were pinched with pain and Susan’s heart squeezed.
“How bad is it?” she pointed to the bandage on his cheek.
“I have a concussion, a small cut by my eye, and a roaring headache. This should help though.” He lifted his cup taking a long sip of the hot brew, then scowled. “Milk?”
“I didn’t know how you took it, so I just had them make my favorite.”
David grinned. “It will do, but I usually drink it black.”
“I knew there was something wrong with you from the moment we met,” Susan laughed, her voice soft, “No one in their right mind drinks coffee black.”
David chuckled, flinching as the sound echoed in his hollow brain. “I’m glad you’re here,” he managed closing his eyes for a moment as he rested his head against the upright bed.
“If you’ll grab my pants,” he pointed toward the chair beside the bed. “I’ll write down the address of my friend, and you can take that glass we found to him. We need to find out what kind of car it is from.”
“You still have it?” Susan hurried to the chinos draped over the chair.
“Why wouldn’t I?” David bit into the moist muffin sighing with pleasure at the warm rich punch of orange and the tart tang of cranberry.
Susan looked up meeting the man’s soft brown eyes. “I got a call from a police officer today. He asked if I knew anyone who would want to hurt you.”
“Me? Why?”
Susan peeled back the flap of the cargo pocket and pulled the bits of red glass out opening her hand where they sparkled in the morning sun.
“You can’t think of someone would try to kill me for those,” David shook his head, and then stopped as a wave of pain slammed into his skull. “Besides,” he said more quietly. “We were the only two people up there.”
“None of this makes sense,” Susan slipped the shards into her handbag turning to the window to study the parked cars below. “I’ve been trying to figure out how those horses ended up on the mountain all those years ago, and you have been trying to uncover what happened to your grandfather. Why would someone suddenly be worried about us continuing the investigation?”
David opened his eyes, his gaze colliding with Susan’s bright blue orbs. “We must be missing someth
ing,” he suggested. “Between us there must be something that will point us to the answers we both so desperately seek.”
“But what?” Susan could feel the frustration spark in her words. “I’ve been over and over the story a thousand times.”
“I need my journal,” David pushed himself up in the bed, turning to look at Susan. “It’s in my truck, do you think you could get it?”
“Where’s your truck?”
“I think it’s at the police impound lot.”
Susan pulled her phone from her pocket and searched for the number. “Write me a note, so I can go in and get your belongings. Is there anything else you need?”
“Not really.” David’s head was pounding again. “Bring the journal back, and we’ll go through it together.” He hated asking for help, but he knew there was no way around it. “Do you have paper and pencil?”
Together they scanned the room looking for something to write with, but saw nothing.
“We’ll ask at the nurses’ station.” David threw back the covers slipping out of bed on bright yellow socks. “I’m sure they will have something and one of them can witness the signing, so you won’t have any trouble at the station.”
Susan bit her bottom lip, trying not to laugh as the man tottered toward the door, his yellow socks, looking like duck feet, but what really made her laugh was the four leaf clover boxer shorts peeking out between the loosely tied flaps of the hospital gown.
Hurrying to keep up and trying her hardest not to laugh, Susan couldn’t help but notice the man had very nice legs, and a rather cute tush, not that she was looking of course.
A moment later they stood at the counter where a pretty young nurse in a floral print uniform handed them a pen and paper.
David wrote a hasty note, and then handed it to Susan to read before asking the nurse to witness it.
“That should do,” he said. “Bring the journal back as soon as you can,” he leaned heavily against the counter, his head spinning. “We’ll go through every entry until something pops out at us.”
Susan nodded her eyes still bright with unshed mirth. “See you soon,” she grinned hurrying toward the elevator.
David watched the young woman hasten away, wondering what she was grinning about. This whole situation had suddenly gotten far too serious.
“Can I help you back to your room?” the nurse asked walking around the counter and stepping up to David. “Oh, and you might want me to tie this,” she added tugging his gown together.
David’s face flamed as he peered down the hall, catching Susan Holmes peals of laughter as she disappeared into the elevator.
Susan followed the uniformed police officer around the side of the building, and through a small gate that led into the impound yard. “Is that it?” she gasped looking at the mangled remains of the old truck.
“Your boyfriend was mighty lucky,” the officer drawled. “It could have been much worse.”
“Oh, he’s not my boyfriend,” Susan felt the blush, but still couldn’t comprehend the mess she was looking at. The driver’s side of the truck had taken the major impact, moving the whole front axle over at least six inches.
“Either way he’s lucky. Just holler when you’re done.” The large man waved heading back into the air conditioned building.
Susan headed to the passenger side of the truck and yanked the door open crawling in among the shattered glass, and torn metal. The journal wasn’t on the seat, so she began going over the truck inch by inch.
She had looked under the seat for the third time, peered behind the head rests, checked the glove box, and even looked under the brake pedal, but there was no sign of the journal anywhere.
“It has to be here somewhere?” she growled, nibbling her lip. “I’m sure he had it when he left Gram’s.”
“You alright lady?” a man in greasy overalls walked toward her. “You’ve been looking in there a long time.”
“Has anyone else been through this wreck?” Susan asked backing out of the truck.
“Nope, it came in last night, and you’re the first person to check on it. Shame about the truck, it’s not an antique, but it’s a classic just the same.”
“Are you sure no one has been in here?”
“Yep, I signed it in myself last night, and I came in first thing this morning. What are you looking for anyway?”
“A book, well a journal really,” Susan placed a hand on her hip and gazed around her. “I know David had it with him when he left my grandmother’s yesterday.”
“You could ask the EMTs,” the mechanic said. “Maybe they picked it up, or maybe it fell out when they were moving your friend.”
“How can I get a hold of them?” Susan turned, her blue eyes inquisitive.
“Let me check the books,” the man disappeared back into the garage returning with a clipboard full of pink and yellow slips. “Here you go,” he said pointing at a sheet. “These are the guys who picked up the driver. They should still be on shift at the fire station if you hurry.”
“Thank you,” Susan grinned, taking note of the names. “I’ll head over to the fire station and see if they are available.”
“Good luck,” the mechanic called after her as she retraced her steps through the police station and back to her car.
“What do you mean you couldn’t find it?” David felt his mouth go dry as chills raced down his spine. “It was in the truck with me.”
“I know,” Susan could see the anxiety on David’s face and her heart clenched at the despair in his eyes. “I looked everywhere. I went over every single inch of that truck, but it wasn’t there.”
“Maybe it fell out when they picked it up. Did you call the tow truck driver? The police who interviewed me last night didn’t mention it.”
“I called everyone.” Susan walked toward the hospital bed where the young man sat, his hands clenched. “I tracked down the EMTs, the tow driver, the police on scene, everyone. One of the officers said he thought he saw something on the floor when they cut you out of the truck, but in all the confusion he doesn’t know what could have happened to it.”
“Did you search the area?” David pushed himself out of his bed bending to grab his mud splattered chino. “We’ll go there now,” he insisted as the room spun.
Susan bolted across the room, grabbing the man by the shoulders and pushing him back onto the bed before he toppled. His arms were tight, roped with hard muscle and warmth radiated from him, washing over her like heat waves dancing on pavement.
“You aren’t up to going anywhere.” Susan’s voice was sharp as she guided him back to his bed.
“You don’t understand,” David hissed through clenched teeth. “Everything I’ve collected over all the years is in that book. Every tiny detail, news clipping, interview: Everything.”
Susan’s heart sank as she listened to the man’s anguished voice. “We’ll find it,” she assured, feeling none of the confidence she tried to force into her tone. “We’ll figure it out.”
David opened his eyes meeting Susan’s blue gaze and the room finally stilled. His head was pounding, but it was nothing compared to the pain in his heart. He couldn’t fail now. He had to find the truth. He had promised his grandmother he would uncover the facts.
“Did you talk to all the officers?” David finally managed to squeak.
Susan released the man’s shoulders, pulling her phone from her pocket and tapped the screen to see her notes.
“It wasn’t easy,” she admitted. “Everyone is working and finding them in one place was almost impossible. There were two officers at the accident and then the EMTs arrived and brought you here. The tow driver arrived while both of the policemen were still there, taking reports from any witnesses.”
“There were witnesses?” David sat up again his eyes full of hope.
“Not really,” Susan hated the way the man slumped back into the bed. “They mostly arrived afterward. It was a quiet day and that street isn’t busy at the best of times.”<
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Silence filled the room as Susan scrolled through the notes she had taken searching for anything that might lift David Watkins from the depths of despair. “What if you tell me everything you remember from the notebook?” She lifted her eyes meeting his dark caramel gaze once more. “Maybe I’ll catch something?”
David sighed, the weight of the world pressing down on his shoulders. He had collected every scrap of evidence, rumor, or titter in that journal, surely he could remember most of what it held.
Chapter 5