Stacey hadn’t thought about it before, but in a way she was like that too. All she wanted was an opportunity to succeed on her own, but his hushed voice was giving her chills.
“Well, I mean, I have my mother and my life in Portland, and friends…but…” she stopped. She had no idea what else she wanted to say and he was staring at her like she was some sort of prophet.
The spell seemed to break and he turned away. “You might as well go down and get started on those files by the desk,” he said, running his finger over the carved name again.
“I thought Helen Stanton already did them.”
“They were sorted, but I want to make certain that Helen didn’t misfile the Feeney information.” His voice left unspoken that he didn’t trust Helen’s work. “I’d like you to give them a quick check. Let me know if you find anything or if you run across the missing flash drive. I’ll be in my office.”
She hopped down the stairs, eager to get away from his odd behavior and ready to get started on the boxes of files. As she entered the parlor/office, she spied the intercom on her desk. She pushed down the “talk” button. “Hello?”
“Yes?” His voice sounded all business and she wrinkled her nose. Did he think she was a dummy for trying it?
“I wanted to see if it worked.”
His quick chuckle sent a rush of warmth through her. “I see. Call me if you have questions.”
“Yes, sir.” She made a face at the intercom. His message was clear: “Don’t call just to chat.”
“By the way, call me Mack. Sir and Mr. Warren make me feel like an old man.”
“Yes…Mack.” She decided she liked the way his name sounded on her tongue as she clicked off the intercom.
With a sigh, Stacey began her work by pulling a pile of folders from the box. She stared at the top folder as a tear sprang to her eye. A date and the name “Carlisle,” was written on a green sticky note in Helen’s familiar handwriting. Stacey touched the words as though they might provide a connection to her friend.
“Helen,” she whispered. She looked around the room made gloomy by the heavy drapes, thick lace curtains and veranda that held back the sun. No wonder Helen might have grown depressed—working in this somber atmosphere for a boss obsessed with a ghost in a house that had lost its character. As though Kendra poked her in the side with a spear she straightened up. She couldn’t afford to let this depressing place get her down. She’d finish the job Helen started and maybe find out why her friend had died.
****
“Mr. Hamilton? Del?” Stacey called, stepping into the greenhouse.
A slim man in a plaid flannel shirt stepped out from behind a row of plants. He rubbed his hands on green stained jeans.
“You lookin’ for me?”
“Yes. I’m Stacey Moreno.”
His dull brown eyes flicked over her below his blue watch cap. A growth of stubble peppered his narrow cheeks. “Mary told me. You’re takin’ over for that dead girl, huh?”
“Yes. Mack told me I should ask you to look at my car.”
“What’s wrong with it?”
He showed little interest in her response before finally nodding. “Guess I can take a look. Is it that silver Honda in the driveway?”
“Yes.”
He nodded and turned his back to her and went back to digging up a plant from a bed of flowers.
Stacey cleared her throat. “I don’t mean to be rude, but could you look at it this morning? Mr. Warren gave me the afternoon off because he had to meet a friend at the ferry. I want to go into town to run errands, and I don’t want to get stranded…”
His head jerked up and his small eyes studied her. He shoved the spade down on the counter. “Guess I don’t have much choice, huh? Mr. Warren wants it done? Guess you’re gonna be like that other girl, thinkin’ you can order me around? I work for them, not you.”
She held up her hands. “I’m sorry! If you can’t look at it today, I understand.”
He wiped his hands on a dirty towel that dangled from a pocket. “I’ll do it now. Come back in an hour.”
She glanced around, hoping to repair the broken good will. “I guess you grow all the flowers I’ve seen in the house? They’re absolutely gorgeous. You must have a beautiful garden around here.”
“Good enough.”
“Anything like a formal garden? Some place I could walk while you work on the car?”
“No garden. And if you go off gallivantin’ around, you gotta be careful of the quarry.” He leaned his head to the side as though providing a direction. “It’s the quarry where they dug up the stone that built this place.”
“You mean like Buchart Gardens in Victoria?” What a great place that would be to draw!
He just stared at her. “This quarry is not that big and it’s deep and full of water. Mainly it’s a hazard.”
“I’ll be careful.”
“I mean it. I told that other girl to stay away from the quarry but then she goes over to the other side and look what happened.”
She tried to keep any emotion from showing. “Where…did she die?”
He cocked his head in the opposite direction, toward where she had come from the ferry. “A few miles the other side of town. It’s called Three Mile Walk, a path at the edge of a bluff. Guess she jumped.”
Stacey examined a pink rose, pretending indifference. Maybe once her car was running she would drive to the location.
“I don’t know what her problem was,” the man added. “Seemed normal at first. I guess this place just plain wore her down.”
“That house is kind of depressing. Your flowers are the only bright spots.”
He grunted. “Got nothin’ to do with the flowers. It’s the people. That Peg, always asking for things. Wants fresh flowers every day, but now she’s takin’ over half the greenhouse to turn into a studio. Like she’ll use it. And Warren. Don’t have time for no one. Made me build him a gym and don’t use it. Just sits up there with his damn papers.”
She sympathized with the man’s views, but gave no indication she agreed. “I’m going for a walk. I’ll be back in an hour.”
“Okay, but if you go into the woods, stick to the right. Away from the quarry.”
She left the garage uncertain where to walk. She could barely find her way around the house, but she wanted to be outside. She felt like she had been cooped up too long—first in her mother’s townhouse in Portland and then here. She didn’t want to make staying inside a habit.
Walking past the garage, Stacey winced as she saw the blackened area where the coach house once stood. Three fir trees sheltered one end. A shiver ran through her and she skirted the area. Behind the house she found a flagstone patio with white wicker furniture and a stainless steel grill. None of it looked used.
Stacey kept walking until she reached a path that led into the dense thicket of trees. The lush forest promised possible locations for a Kendra adventure. Silence descended on her as she stepped under the tent of towering trees. The foliage was so dense she couldn’t see the sky. The only sound was the crackle of pine needles under her feet and even that grew muffled by a thick layer of leaves and moss. It wasn’t raining but droplets of water fell from large emerald leaves. Her breath caught. This was beautiful. It was like being in another world.
Forgetting Del’s warning, she pressed forward. This might be her only chance to explore. Once Mack finished with his friend, she might not get time off. He was probably gone by now. The quiet gave her the chance to think about Helen again. Why did people at Redfern Manor view her in such a negative fashion? No wonder they all believed she’d committed suicide. Could Stacey show them differently? And if Helen hadn’t killed herself, how had she died? Had she fallen by accident?
Stacey could see the possibility. She had to step carefully, even along the path. Low branches shot out over the path and tree roots extended above the ground like long green veins. Uprooted trees sometimes covered the path. Even as she considered her footing, she ca
ught her ankle on a vine and nearly tripped. She took another step and stopped. Spread out before her was a steep drop. Across from her were the sheer walls of the quarry.
Dizziness rocked her and Stacey drew back, knees shaking. She’d almost fallen in. If she’d tripped or taken two more steps forward… Hadn’t Del said to go right? She held up her hands, studied them and shook her head. Naturally she’d gone to the left.
She turned and her foot caught on the roots again. Stumbling, Stacey cried out and the sound seemed to reverberate around her and echo in the quarry. She staggered toward the edge of the bank, propelled by her forward motion and she knew any second her feet would touch air. She reached out, trying to break her fall, and this time she connected. A sturdy hand grasped hers and pulled her back from the edge of the quarry.
“What the hell are you doing?”
She looked up into the startled eyes of Mack Warren. “I…fell…”
He scooped her up like a sack of flour, and she sagged against him, her body trembling. As he put her down, she leaned toward him, grasping him tightly around the neck.
“It’s okay,” he said in a soft voice.
Stacey was aware of the warmth of his large body as she pressed against him. He smelled clean and masculine and she recognized the lime scent from his bath soap that she’d used the first day. Perhaps it was that smell, but she found herself drawn to him and was tempted to lean her cheek on his sturdy shoulder.
“Are you all right?” he asked, brushing her hair from her face. “What happened?”
She pointed down at the tangled roots. “I tripped.”
His warm breath teased her cheek and she could feel his heart thudding through the hand she rested on his chest. As though he noticed their proximity and his overly familiar touch on her hair, he pulled back.
“What are you doing out here?” he asked, his voice taking on a gruff timbre.
“Taking a walk.”
His lips drew into a straight disapproving line. “This isn’t a good direction to come.”
Breaking twigs crackled and Del Hamilton appeared. “I heard someone yell.”
“She almost fell into the quarry.”
“I told you to be careful,” Del grumbled, eyes skewering Stacey.
Wonderful! What would Mack think of her now? “I’m fine,” she protested.
Mack turned to Del and waved at the path. “Didn’t there used to be a sign posted about the quarry?”
Del stretched his neck to look beyond them, and a surprised look crossed his face. “I had a board nailed to that tree. It musta fallen down or someone took it off.”
“Well, put it back,” Mack ordered. “Now. I don’t want someone falling in and suing me because the quarry wasn’t marked.”
Del nodded, thin shoulders drooping and Stacey couldn’t help but jump to his defense. “He…did tell me to stay to the right.” She held up her hands and wiggled her left thumb. “I…um…got lost…”
Mack’s cold stare was like hitting a hard blue wall. There was no doubting what he thought of her this time. Shaking his head and jamming his hands in his pockets, he turned away without saying a word.
Stacey approached Del and touched his arm lightly. “I’m sorry, Del. I should have listened when you warned me not to come into the woods.”
A muscle in Del’s stubbled jaw jumped in irritation. He gave her a brisk nod and stomped back along the path.
Mack came up behind her and took her arm. The touch on the elbow of her sweater was like a jolt of electricity. “Let’s go back.”
“Thank you for saving me…” she began.
He looked down at her, something unreadable in those bottomless sapphire eyes. “You need to be more careful. You’re lucky I saw you come this way. I wanted to see if you needed a ride into town while Del works on your car. I can drop you off and Peg will bring you back when she goes in later.”
Stacey couldn’t face him, knowing how silly he must think she was. What made her think she could figure out the truth about Helen when she couldn’t even tell her right from her left?
Chapter Four
The line of cars wound slowly away from the ferry dock into the narrow streets lined by two long blocks of clapboard structures. Despite a light rain, tourists meandered under umbrellas along wooden sidewalks outside gift shops, antique stores, and fishing outlets. A general store dominated a corner at the end of the first block. The next street began with a brightly lit coffee house. Beyond it was another series of shops and cafes before the town ended abruptly.
Stacey frowned as she peered into the crowded coffee shop. She’d finished her business at the post office, and that was where she was supposed to meet Peg in half an hour. She didn’t relish the thought of jamming herself between the crowded tables, but she couldn’t remain outside for long without an umbrella. She glanced up a side street and her breath caught. The Gull’s Roost! Helen had posed for a picture outside the rustic log bar, telling Stacey this was where she spent free evenings.
It drew Stacey like a magnet. The interior smelled of stale beer and fried onions, and unlike the coffee house, the long room was nearly empty. Only one booth was occupied while two men slouched at one end of the bar. What did she hope to learn here? She didn’t know. But like the job, it provided a connection to Helen.
“May I help you?” A hulking man with strands of gray hair combed over his balding head leaned across the bar.
“Um…coffee?” she stammered, shaking off her wet jacket.
“Need a little nip in it?” he asked, slapping the bar with a napkin.
“Better not,” she said with an apologetic smile. “I have to meet my boss later.” She sat gingerly on the stool, examining the cavernous room. The walls were varnished logs, and the booths were made of polished pine. Blue vinyl cushions rested on the seats. Neon signs advertising various beers decorated the walls.
The bartender returned with a steaming mug. “Did you just get off the ferry?” he asked with a wide smile.
“I came in yesterday. How did you guess?”
His pudgy face wrinkled into a grin and his twinkling brown eyes were pleasant and open. “I know everyone who lives in town and everyone who has a vacation home. Name’s Hap. Gonna be here long?”
“Maybe,” she said, not certain how to answer.
“Where are you staying?” he asked.
As she sipped her hot coffee she could almost hear her mother’s voice, echoing in her brain. “Never tell a stranger too much about yourself.” Luckily she didn’t have to answer.
“Hey, Hap, can we get some service down here?” The two patrons at the end of the bar simultaneously banged their empty glass mugs on the bar.
“Sorry,” he said, waddling away. He stopped at the beer pumps in the center of the bar, pulled out two frosted mugs from a cooler and drew two frothy mugs of beer.
Stacey made a face at herself in the mirror behind the bar. How stupid was she for not coming up with a story before attempting this? Kendra/Helen would have a readymade spiel.
“Kinda quiet,” one of the men said. He looked to be in his late 30s, wiry, with a shaved head and narrow skull.
“Been quiet,” Hap replied as he placed the mugs in front of the men.
“You hear any more about that girl?” the other man asked. He was burly and appeared to be all muscle beneath his gray t-shirt.
Stacey fought to hide her interest, though her skin prickled. Somehow she knew “that girl” was Helen.
“Nope,” said Hap. “Nothing on the news.”
“You’d think they’d say something even if it was suicide,” the wiry man said.
“Suicide?” The word blurted from Stacey’s lips before she could stop herself. Down the bar three pairs of eyes turned to her.
“Don’t let them scare you.” Hap waved a large hand. “We had a girl jump off a cliff not long ago.”
Stacey’s breathing grew shallow as a shiver ran through her. “I see.”
Hap turned back to the men.
“I’m gonna miss her. She livened up the place. Always had a smile, wanting to talk.”
“You just liked the attention from a pretty young girl,” the big man joked.
“Tease me all you want, Mike, but she was a pleasant kid.”
“Why’d she kill herself then?” Mike replied.
“You’re sure it was suicide?” Stacey asked. “I mean, did someone see her jump?”
“Nah,” Mike said. “Kids found her body broken on the rocks.”
The image jolted her. Stacey preferred to think of Helen visiting the bar, talking and laughing with Hap, not a mangled body at the bottom of a cliff.
“Damn Warrens probably drove her to it,” the wiry man said. “That’s a cold bunch.”
Hap nodded. “Can you believe they were ready to blame the fire at their place on her? Now I hear it was some damn electrical cord.”
“Maybe you’ll get a new friend,” Mike said. “The sister came into the store the other day and put up a job notice on the bulletin board. It was in the paper too.”
“See what I mean? Her body’s barely in the ground.” Hap shook his head in disapproval. “They’re unfriendly. I hear the sister went through the antique shops being very particular and then demanded immediate delivery. The brother seldom comes to town. He’s never been in once.”
“He goes to that French café.” Mike lifted his nose and adopted a false accent that drew laughs from the other men.
“Del don’t mind ’em,” the wiry man said. “Not that he’s worth much. His no good cousin was down at the dock yesterday, looking for work. Just got out of state prison.”
“Ray Gibson?” Hap asked. “He’s back?”
“Yeah why? You got work to give him? He’ll steal you blind.”
“No, but that girl was lookin’ for him the week before she died,” Hap said.
The three men exchanged glances.
“Why?” Mike asked.
Hap shrugged. “I don’t know. Don’t think she found him, though.”
Why would Helen look for a convict? Stacey was curious, but a quick glance at her watch told her it was time to go. She put money on the bar and waved goodbye at Hap.
Shadows from the Past Page 4