Shadows from the Past

by Rebecca Grace

  The rain assaulted her as she stepped outside, and Stacey pulled her collar around her. In the distance the ferry was loading and Stacey was tempted to make a dash for it. She’d only been at Redfern Manor one day, but she sensed strange undercurrents. Even the townspeople seemed to confirm her misgivings. It was as though she’d wandered into a world where mist shrouded the truth, where shadowy figures took cover in that mist to hide their true intentions.

  Kendra world for sure, but what could Stacey accomplish here? She shook off her negative thoughts. Why had Helen died here? More than ever, she wanted to find out.

  ****

  Stacey sat at her desk, staring into the misty dawn, her only light coming from the narrow shaft of a desk lamp. Outside the towering fir trees beyond the garage resembled an invading army, poised for battle. She was drawing a sketch of the trees on either side of the house as opposing foes, facing off across the lawn.

  She sketched Kendra in full armor leading one army. The other side had stolen the princess and she drew the abducted royal with Helen’s face. Studying the trees for inspiration, she stopped, her fingers beginning to shake. Wait! Someone stood close to the fir trees beside the burned area. Who was it? The figure was too short to be Mack, too tall to be Del Hamilton and too big to be Peg. Joe maybe? What was he doing out there at five in the morning?

  The figure shifted and she could have sworn he looked right at her. Panicked, she flipped off the desk light. Stacey sat in the darkness for a few minutes before approaching the window from the side. With her eyes adjusted to darkness she could make out the trees, but the figure was gone. Another one of those shadows concealed in the mist.

  Putting away her drawings, she climbed back into bed, but couldn’t fall asleep. Finally she headed for the shower and breakfast. At the bottom of the stairs, the sound of laughter drew her toward the dining room.

  Mack stood as she entered. “Stacey, come in. I want you to meet someone.”

  She stepped inside and stumbled, though she didn’t know if it was the carpet that she misgauged or the slender man who sat at the table next to Peg Warren.

  He stood and nodded at her. “Hello, I’m Mack’s friend, Carlos Emory.” His thick black hair was edged with streaks of gray and his lean dark face was wrinkled with lines that looked like he’d spent years in the sun. His wide smile displayed perfect, white teeth.

  “Carlos stopped by on his way to Canada to cover a story,” Mack explained. “He’s my old photographer from Los Angeles. Stacey is my new assistant on the Feeney book.”

  She mumbled a hello to Carlos, aware of his insistent stare.

  “Have we met before?” he asked.

  Stacey lowered her head as fear tightened her muscles. They hadn’t met, but she had seen him before. And he had probably seen her. The Warrens had not attended Helen’s funeral, but Carlos had. She’d thought he was an old boss or teacher since he didn’t stay long at the reception and Helen’s immediate friends and family didn’t appear to know him or who he was.

  Did he recognize her? She’d worn a floppy black hat to the funeral to shelter her tear-stained face and covered her bloodshot eyes with dark glasses.

  “I’m one of those people who looks…uh…generic,” she said, summoning a smile.

  His loud laugh rang around the room. “I see. Is the taskmaster keeping you busy?”

  “We’re just getting started,” Mack said.

  Peg rose and turned toward the door to the kitchen. “Would you like eggs, Stacey? I can have Mrs. D bring them in.”

  Not wanting to remain near Carlos, Stacey started to follow Peg. “I can get them myself.”

  “No, no, stay and keep them company. I’m tired of their ghost stories.”

  “Ghost stories?” That was different. Curiosity swept her into a chair. She looked from Mack to Carlos but lowered her face as he regarded her with a gaze that seemed knowing.

  “I accused Mack of being haunted by the ghost of Lily Feeney,” he said.

  “The house?” Her gaze shot to Mack.

  To her surprise, his eyes shone with warmth. “She’s convinced the house is haunted.”

  “Not really, but this morning I saw…” She stopped.

  “Now you saw something?” Mack asked.

  “Not a ghost. There was a man standing by the old coach house.”

  “Who?” He tipped his chin up toward Carlos. “Were you out there?”

  Carlos held up his hands in a surrender motion. “Not me. What about that old guy?”

  “Del won’t be here for another half hour, and Joe didn’t come today.” Mack leaned toward Stacey. “Noises and now visions? If someone is haunting the place, you seem to be the only witness.”

  “Makes sense,” Carlos added with a laugh. “The pretty young girl comes to the haunted house? Naturally the ghost would turn on her.”

  Her face burned. They were teasing her and she didn’t like it. Her response erupted from deep inside her as though coming from someone else. “Maybe it’s the ghost of Helen Stanton.”

  Both men jerked upright and they exchanged shocked glances. For a minute, neither spoke, and for a second she could almost hear Helen laughing with glee.

  ****

  “Aren’t you a cutie,” Carlos said, throwing himself into her chair and rolling it toward where Stacey kneeled on the floor, digging through boxes.

  “Pardon me?” She refused to look up at him.

  “Sweet, delicious, ripe, like a low hanging peach.”

  That was the second time he had made flirtatious comments and she drew back, knowing her cheeks must be turning bright red. “Please, Mr. Emory. I have work to do.”

  “Need help?”

  “Do you know anything about Lily Feeney?” she asked, trying to sound sarcastic.

  “I probably know more than Mack does. I was a young news photographer when those Stalker killings happened. I even covered a couple of them. I also shot Mack’s interview with Kevin Greenlee. The day before he’s scheduled to die, the guy claims he didn’t kill Lily.”

  “Mack doesn’t seem to believe he did.”

  “Does he? Or is he out to make a name for himself by writing a book that questions it?”

  She jerked up. She hadn’t considered that. “Really?”

  His smile resembled a Cheshire cat grin. “What do you think?”

  Stacey shook her head. He was teasing her again. She’d decided she didn’t like Carlos, and it was more than her fear he might connect her to Helen. She wasn’t practiced with men, but she knew his type. Carlos was out to impress any woman he met—even if they were years younger. He said he’d covered the Greenlee killings. That put him in his fifties.

  “Did you know Helen Stanton very well?” she asked.

  He put his hand to his chest. “What a leading question.”

  “Not at all. I’m going through the work she did. From the looks of these files, she seems very organized, but Mack doesn’t think so. Most of the people here didn’t like her.”

  Carlos erupted with a boisterous laugh. “Of course not. Helen Stanton traveled to the beat of her own drummer. She didn’t suffer BS very well, from Peg, Mrs. D or grumpy Del.”

  Stacey pressed her lips together to keep from smiling. He sounded as though he did know Helen well. “What about Mack?”

  “Ah, what are you asking, young Stacey? If she and the boss had something going and maybe that was why she took the plunge?”

  Could that be possible? Helen had been impressed by his good looks when she got the job, but she barely mentioned him that final weekend they were together. “What do you think?”

  “It would have been all one-sided.”

  “Mack’s still in love with his wife,” she said, recalling his wedding band.

  His grunt was a surprise. “Uh-uh. Mack’s in love with lovely Lily.”

  “What?” Her head rose sharply in shock and she studied him.

  His dark brown eyes were thoughtful, and his lean face had grown straight and serious
. “He’s obsessed with her. I wasn’t kidding when I said he’s haunted by her.”

  She thought about how Mack turned conversations toward Lily as well as his odd behavior when they visited her room. “I suppose haunted or obsessed, but in love with her?”

  “Sure enough. She was Mack’s type. That sweet, ethereal smile. Soft and delicate. Kinda like you.”

  Stacey felt her face grow warm and she turned away to huddle over the files. “You’re teasing me.”

  “Just harmless flirting. Am I getting anywhere?”

  “No. And if you don’t mind, I need to finish this work. I’m trying to find the Feeney information that Helen lost. Mack says it may be mixed in with these files.”

  He reached over and thumbed through a couple. “Having any luck?”

  “Not so far, which is why I can’t talk.”

  He shoved himself up from the chair. “All right. But if you decide I’m the man of your dreams, just say the word. I’m between wives right now. And before you say you’re too young, my last wife was twenty-three.”

  She rolled her eyes, wanting to discourage him. “I have a boyfriend waiting at home.” That wasn’t entirely a lie. Phil had been her boyfriend until he decided she wasn’t right for him. Her mother said he might want her back, so maybe he did still consider himself a boyfriend.

  “Quick. What’s his name?”

  “Phil Bradley,” she shot back without looking up. “We started dating in college.”

  “Well, good. We wouldn’t want Mack to turn his attention on you, would we?”

  “Why would he do that?” she asked, giving him a falsely sweet smile. “You said he’s in love with Lily Feeney.”

  His dark eyes gazed at her so thoroughly they made her uncomfortable.

  “Yes, but I’m starting to see you’re more than just a sweet, fresh breath of air. Maybe you could make him get over that obsession.”

  She slammed a cover on one of the boxes. “It’s a good thing I have Phil waiting at home.”

  ****

  The afternoon fog settled around her car like a blanket, but Stacey didn’t stop. She drove past the ferry dock, in the opposite direction of Redfern Manor. She had come from the post office with her box of clothes, but she’d received more than just the package. Her mother had forwarded a letter from Helen. The lavender envelope rested on the seat beside her.

  It was why she’d headed in this direction. The letter was like Helen calling to her. She was going to the spot where Helen died to read the letter. Del had said the place was called Three Mile Walk and she drove along the narrow road until she saw a sign. She turned into a gravel parking lot and grabbed the letter before getting out of her car.

  Arrows pointed toward a paved path that led through a grassy field to a grove of trees. As she ambled through the mist, Stacey thought of Helen taking her last walk. What had she been thinking? Why here? It was so peaceful with the only sounds coming from wind whistling in the trees and waves crashing in the distance. Every so often the mist parted and Stacey could see the choppy white caps from the ocean in the distance.

  The path turned sharply at the edge of a bluff that overlooked the sea. A gray, weathered, wooden fence provided a safe viewpoint of the swirling water below. Stacey paused. Helen could not have fallen from here by accident. The fence extended along the edge of the bluff as it dipped to a set of wooden steps near the bottom. She would have had to climb over the fence to get to the edge, which was composed of black volcanic rock. It was too sturdy to crumble, but it might be wet and slippery. Heights never disturbed Helen, but she could have slipped. Or had she jumped as authorities told her parents?

  Tears flooded Stacey’s eyes. What had she expected to find here? Answers? There were none—not any more than what she was discovering at Redfern Manor. Had she let Helen down? If she had made the trip to Evergreen Island when Helen asked, could she have saved her?

  “I’m sorry,” she whispered to the cliff. Feeling despondent, Stacey reached into her pocket to get Helen’s letter to read it. She searched for a place to sit, not wanting to sit on the fence. She looked back toward her car and stopped. Was that a person along the path? A tall person in a black raincoat? She couldn’t tell. Where had they come from? She hadn’t heard a car approach.

  For a moment terror struck her and then she shook it off. Why should she be afraid?

  She looked down trying to decide what to do and finally decided to simply go back to her car. But when she looked up, there was no one there. If someone had been watching her, he or she was gone.

  With her breath coming in soft gasps, Stacey hurried back to the parking lot. When she arrived, only her car was parked in the gravel lot. She climbed inside and hit the lock button. Seeing the person had stopped her from reading Helen’s letter so she pulled it from her pocket now. Her hands shook though she wasn’t certain if it was the cold or the thought that she was holding her friend’s last communication in her hand.

  Stacey,

  I got your message that you aren’t able to come. Please try! I should have told you when I visited, but this place is not what I thought, and I can’t call and tell you the truth.

  The walls here have ears. Peg is a witch who hides it under a sweet veneer. The cook has it out for me and so do her kids, and the handyman keeps following me as though he’s afraid I’ll find something I shouldn’t. Mack terrifies me most of all. He’s obsessed with this murder case and I feel I am being dragged into something evil. Like I said in my last letter, I feel Lily Feeney is calling out to me for justice. I never told you but after leaving Portland on my last visit, I went to Los Angeles. I can’t write down what I found out but when you come we’ll put it all together.

  I sense someone here is trying to sabotage my work. Papers disappear, and I’m being watched by more than the handyman. It’s like there’s a vulture constantly circling me, but he or she stays just below the radar so I can’t confront the person. That’s why I can’t call or email. Don’t open those other letters I sent you. Just keep them for now, but bring me that backpack. I really need it.

  Come soon. The Kendra crew will solve this thing!

  H

  “Oh, Helen,” Stacey whispered, biting hard on her lip to keep tears from falling. She couldn’t imagine what Helen was talking about. Danger? Evil? Someone watching her? But didn’t Stacey feel that same paranoia? That spooky figure by the garage or along the foggy path?

  She shuddered, peering out the window. There was no one there now. Why would anyone think Helen or she might be a danger? And what could it have to do with Lily Feeney or Redfern Manor? Maybe someone in town or even Del or Mrs. D didn’t want the Warrens at the old house. The men at the bar hadn’t liked them. Maybe others felt the same. But why go after Helen? Or her for that matter? She re-read the letter, closely studying each line, looking for anything she might have missed, but she couldn’t see anything that answered her questions. The second reading only brought more concern.

  What other letters was Helen talking about? Stacey hadn’t received any mail from her besides this. Rats! A new, disturbing thought rattled her. Could her mother have the letters and not realize it? Since moving in with her mother, Stacey had discovered that one of her worst habits was to throw incoming mail into a wooden box and open it once a month.

  A sharp rap on her window startled her and Stacey jumped as a face bent down toward her.

  Mack!

  With shaking fingers, Stacey tossed the letter on the seat, turned on the car and rolled down the window. “What are you doing here?”

  “I brought Carlos to the ferry and saw you turn this way. When I didn’t see you driving back, I figured maybe you were lost again.”

  She licked her lips nervously. “I was going for a walk, away from the quarry.”

  “Do you want me to go with you?”

  To her surprise, the thought of walking along the edge of the precipice with Mack beside her bothered her. Was she afraid of him? Not physically. But that strange, phy
sical reaction he sparked in her, well, that was another story. And what if she broke down while thinking of Helen’s death?

  “Actually, I was just thinking I should get back to the house.”

  “How’s the car working?” he asked, tapping on the open window. “No problems?”

  “No, but um…Del said I will have to take it to a mechanic eventually.”

  “Why don’t you do that now? We can leave your car in town and I’ll take you home.”

  She chewed on her lip, considering his proposal. It made sense and she couldn’t leave the island until the car was working for certain. “Okay.”

  ****

  Once they had taken the car to a nearby shop, Stacey got into Mack’s Mercedes for the ride back to Redfern Manor. In the close confines of the car, the silence quickly grew unbearable for Stacey. Mack’s large presence seemed to fill up the interior, and she could smell the fresh sea water on his camel hair blazer, as well as the lime scent of his soap. She shivered, despite the fact that heat poured from the car’s vents, thinking about using that soap. His soap. There was something intimate about having carried that smell on her own body for hours after bathing in his tub.

  “How was your visit with Carlos?” she asked to break the uncomfortable silence. “The two of you seem as close as brothers.”

  “I suppose he’s the closest I’ll ever get to having a brother. We worked together for years, but we didn’t get to be close friends until after I retired. Now I’m glad he’s working in Seattle where he can visit every so often.”

  She knew how he felt. Helen had been like her sister. “It’s important to have a good friend.” But it wasn’t just thoughts of Helen bothering her. She turned to look out the window. “Were you watching me?”

  “What? Why would I be watching you?” His surprise seemed genuine.

  “I don’t know. I saw someone back…there. Maybe they weren’t watching me. It’s a public area, so it’s no big deal, right? But I did see someone.”

  “Just like you saw someone outside the garage this morning?”

  Irritation pricked at her like a stinging bee. “I’m not imagining these things.”

  He glanced over at her. “What were you thinking about back there? You seemed a hundred miles away.”