Erin Solomon Mysteries, Books 1 - 5

by Jen Blood

  Diggs was still busy when noon came round, the rest of the crew busy prepping to leave come morning. It was just Einstein and me in the house while I waited for Cameron’s e-mail. I’d been listening to the weather radio for most of the morning. The whole state was gearing up for the coming storm, due to hit in two days—on New Year’s Eve, of course. Most celebrations were tentative at best at this point, though in Maine you don’t know for sure how bad a storm will be until you’re already buried in powder. So far, though, the bullets for the blizzard were impressive: two feet of snow along the coast, gusting winds up to fifty miles an hour, and seas at ten to fifteen feet. Meteorologists warned that predictions could change in the next twenty-four hours, but every computer model they had said pretty much the same thing—batten down the hatches and stay the hell inside for the duration.

  The perfect way to ring in the new year in Maine.

  When I couldn’t stand watching my inbox or listening to dire forecasts any more, I snagged Einstein, shrugged on a second layer and my winter jacket, and headed out to see what the rest of the world was up to.

  I found Diggs working on stabilizing a barn-in-progress with Monty and Cheyenne, to make sure the thing didn’t blow over while the others were away. They looked like they had it all under control, so I struck out in search of Jamie.

  A warm front was moving through the state, the air almost balmy compared to what it had been. The sky was clear blue and cloud-free. Chickadees sang. Squirrels skittered. Einstein trotted along beside me like he didn’t have a care in the world, while we followed the same path I’d traveled with the others that morning. The smells of pine and salt were strong in the air, and every so often I’d catch a flash of crimson in the trees when a cardinal would settle on a low branch. It was a great day to be alive; it was a shame I was too caught up in the thought of one dead girl to give it much notice.

  I consciously followed the path to the place where Allie Tate had appeared from nowhere, spouting cryptic allegories I didn’t understand. Make it through the Crack and you live forever. What the hell did that even mean?

  I slowed at the place where I’d seen her during the run—the Crack. All I saw now were cold forest and a big hunk of granite sliced down the middle. A headache daggered in at my temples as I tried to push past the mental brick wall my father had put there when I was a kid.

  Before I ever got close to knocking that wall down, I heard dogs barking farther down the trail. Einstein woofed back and looked at me hopefully. I looked back at the Crack. It was definitely still empty.

  “Sure,” I said to Stein. “Let’s go see what the others are up to. Maybe Allie’s hanging with Bear now.”

  Einstein grinned like a fool, his tail wagging, with no idea that I’d gone completely nuts. Or maybe he had an idea, and he just didn’t care. That’s what I love about dogs—they never judge.

  In the valley where the Payson barn/chapel once stood, Jamie had cleared out the underbrush and replaced the rubble of the burned-out structure with an indoor/outdoor training facility for the dogs. It was the only thing actually finished on the island. That was where I found her that afternoon.

  The building consisted of a covered arena that was maybe 60 x 120 square feet, with a padded floor, and obstacles and equipment set up about halfway across the arena. A dozen dogs of varying sizes and breeds sat patiently at the other end when I came in. Bear stood just behind the dogs, Jamie waiting at the equipment.

  Einstein whined beside me. One of the dogs—a shepherd mix with a mottled coat who looked younger than the others—looked over.

  “Sorry,” I said. “Didn’t mean to interrupt.”

  “We’re due for a break anyway,” Jamie said. “Just give us ten minutes. You can let Stein join in if you want. He loves this part.”

  That was news to me. I started to walk him over on the leash, but Bear shook his head. “You can just let him go. After nine months with us, he knows the drill.”

  I unclipped his leash. Einstein trotted over without bothering to greet the other dogs, and sat at attention at the end of the line. Bear tossed him a treat, which he caught in mid-air before he sat again. I stood there, gobsmacked, while Jamie put the dogs through their paces. They ran through basic stuff like sit and stay, which the dogs did in perfect synchrony, then moved on to individual tracking routines. When Einstein’s turn came, he stood with wagging tail and waited eagerly for the command.

  “Find it, Stein!” Bear said, after what seemed an unnecessarily long wait. Einstein took off running, snuffling the air and the ground for only about two seconds before he caught the scent. A stuffed duck was hidden beneath an orange cone on the other side of the arena. Einstein sniffed the cone once, whimpered, and lay down, his gaze expectant on Bear.

  Apparently, Einstein was a damn genius.

  When they were done, Jamie and Bear released the dogs with a single command and all dozen of them stood, tails wagging, and trotted outside to a fenced enclosure. The exception was Phantom, Jamie’s shepherd. Gray at the muzzle and slightly lame at the hips, she came over and settled at Jamie’s feet without so much as a glance at me.

  “That was incredible,” I said to Jamie. “Seriously. I had Stein for four years before you got hold of him, and the best I ever did was teach him not to eat frozen dog crap.”

  “He’s a natural,” she said. “Bear’s the one who did most of the work with him, though.”

  “Whoever did the work, you’ve done a great job,” I said. I looked at Bear, who smiled shyly. He wore jeans and a t-shirt despite the cold weather. Standing out here like this, it was the first time I actually realized how big he was. At seventeen, he topped six feet, his shoulders broad, his gait a lope that was more wolf than bear. “I really appreciate you two taking him into the fold like this. With everything else you’ve got going on, it couldn’t have been easy.”

  “One more dog in this place is nothing,” Bear said. “Besides, he was fun. He’s smart, and he has a great nose. He missed you, though.”

  Watching him wrestle with the other dogs, I wasn’t so sure about that. Rather than appear pathetically insecure about my dog’s loyalty, however, I let the subject drop. I had other fish to fry right now.

  “So…” I began, in the least subtle subject shift so far today, “the other night, with that whole window-shattering thing…” Bear didn’t look at all surprised, though he did look a little uncomfortable. He waited for me to finish. “You mentioned seeing a girl?”

  He glanced at Jamie, like he wasn’t sure whether or not he should answer the question. She nodded, silent.

  “Phantom saw her first,” he said. “When we first came out here, last spring. Mom and I came out with Carl and a couple of the dogs, to check the place out. I was walking through the woods, and Phantom caught the scent.”

  “The scent of…what?” I asked. Skepticism definitely made it into my tone. “A ghost?”

  He looked embarrassed, which really hadn’t been my intention. Before Jamie could intervene, the dogs all shifted focus to the path leading in to the center. A couple of them woofed. All of them wagged. Seconds later, Urenna emerged from the brush and trotted toward us, out of breath. There was a light sheen of sweat on her forehead.

  “I thought you were meeting me back at the house,” she said to Bear with mock severity. “Instead, I come out here and find you slacking as usual.”

  I expected him to be flustered, but he just grinned at her. “You know you’ve been looking for an excuse to get out of that house. I was just trying to help you out.”

  “Always so considerate,” she said. She battered her long, thick eyelashes at him. Their eyes locked. Jamie cleared her throat, and Urenna refocused and dropped the flirty banter. “I was able to get us a block of rooms at the lodge for tomorrow through Wednesday. The core dogs are okay to stay with us, and the others will be kenneled at the center.”

  “Good. Thank you,” Jamie said.

  “I got an itinerary,” Urenna added. “It looks like fun
, actually. They’ve got a workshop on scenting with small dogs that I thought would be perfect for Pru and Dobby.”

  “That’s great,” Bear said. “A whole class for people who can’t handle real dogs.” His gaze sparked when he said it. Urenna arched an eyebrow, but she didn’t take the bait.

  “There’s another session I know my dad will have a good time with—a whole training on rehabbing retired military dogs to use in search and rescue. He’ll be psyched.”

  “I think your father may actually sit this one out,” Jamie said, glancing at me. “He’s staying behind to keep an eye on things here.” I caught a flicker of uneasiness before Urenna shut it down. “He didn’t tell you?”

  “He’s been busy out at the building site—I didn’t want to bother him,” she said. She frowned. “Okay. Well, I guess that’s one less head to worry about feeding while we’re there, right?”

  The news had taken the wind out of her sails for some reason. Bear clearly caught her mood, and nodded toward the house. “Speaking of grub, we should get back—it’s my turn to cook tonight.”

  “Which means it’s my turn to keep watch and make sure you don’t accidentally poison us.”

  “Funny.” He shifted focus to Jamie. “We can get the dogs rounded up and in for the afternoon if you want. You want to keep Stein back?”

  “Yeah,” I said, already feeling guilty for ruining my dog’s fun. “If you don’t mind.”

  “Leave Phantom and Casper, too,” Jamie added. “Phantom’s getting too old to traipse all over the place, and Stein and Casper can wear each other out. The rest of them can go, though.”

  “Got it,” Bear said. Urenna lingered for a second before she seemed to sense that we had other business to tend to.

  “I’ll just get started,” she said.

  “I’ll be right there,” Bear said. He waited until she was out of earshot before he spoke again. It took him a couple of seconds to work up the courage this time. “The little girl—the one I keep seeing. You knew her, then? You were there when she was killed.”

  My innards went ten degrees colder. “I’m not exactly sure. There’s a lot of stuff I don’t remember.”

  “You will,” he said. “I saw her again last night. She doesn’t… I mean, it’s not like she sits there and talks to me or something. But I get the sense it’s important—you remembering.”

  “She told you that. My dead best friend.”

  “Sort of. Like I said, she doesn’t talk—I just get impressions from her.”

  All righty then. He turned again before I could follow up with another question, and left us. Jamie waited until he and Urenna were rounding up the dogs before she returned her attention to me. She pulled out a couple of chairs at the edge of the arena, and we sat. The sun was still out, though it had gotten chillier as the afternoon wore on.

  “Interesting kid,” I said.

  “You don’t know the half of it. I know what he was talking about is a little out there, but try to keep an open mind.”

  “I’m doing my best. Have you seen the girl Bear has seen?”

  “No. She’s apparently taken a liking to him, though.” If Jamie was skeptical, she didn’t show it.

  “He’s mentioned her to you before the other night?”

  “There are a few here that he’s mentioned. She’s the one who visits him most regularly, though. I think she might have a little crush.”

  “On your son.”

  She opened a metal container, drank from it, and closed it again before she answered, smiling. “That’s right.”

  “The ghost of my nine-year-old best friend, who’s been dead for twenty-five years.”

  “It’s just a theory.”

  A bat-shit crazy one, but who was I to judge. I studied her for a few seconds, trying to figure out where to go from there. Jamie was about my age—maybe a year or two older, but I couldn’t imagine she was more than thirty-five. That meant she would have been a teenager when she had Bear, her giant, soulful psychic son.

  “Aren’t you scared, living out here on this island of ghosts?” I finally asked. To my surprise, she didn’t answer right away. I caught the hesitation in her eyes. “You are. Why the hell are you staying, if you’re afraid of this place?”

  “I’m not afraid,” she said. I’d offended her—which is a talent of mine. “I’m just…cautious. This is an incredible opportunity for us. This island came at a critical time, just when the business was really starting to grow. I never would have had the funds for a setup like this myself.”

  “Do you think you’re in danger here?”

  Another second or two of thought passed before she met my eye. “I think we have more to fear from the living than the dead. My biggest concern, to be honest, is that I don’t think the living are done with this island yet.”

  “Meaning J. and his people,” I guessed.

  “There’s something about this place that makes me think they still have business here. That worries me much more than a little girl who died a tragic death, who takes comfort in the little bit of attention my son gives her every now and then.”

  Einstein and Casper reached us in a tumble of white paws, still half chasing each other when Stein butted his head against my thigh.

  “We should get going,” Jamie said, standing. Phantom got up with her. “I’ve still got a lot to tie up if we’re clearing out tomorrow.”

  I got up with her. As we headed out, I thought yet again of Allie Tate. Whether she was actually a ghost—and I was absolutely, positively not prepared to concede that point—or just a niggling part of my subconscious trying to get me to remember, I had a feeling I’d be seeing more of her before long.

  ◊◊◊◊◊

  I still hadn’t heard from Cameron by the time the sun was down that night. Of course, it was technically only four-thirty, so I figured that was understandable. We stuck with the plan anyway. This time, Diggs and I walked down to the boat with Monty and Carl alongside, the four of us traveling in silence for most of the trek. The trees were stripped of leaves, the moon half full, the air cold enough to freeze the tips of my nose and the ends of my fingers and toes.

  Maine without either snow or foliage is a weird place—the world a landscape in browns and grays, the kind of monochromatic palette you’d expect in limbo, waiting for the final judgment to be handed down. It can be beautiful in a stark, dismal kind of way, but at the moment I really wasn’t seeing the beauty. Right now, with Diggs’ father dead, Payson Isle about to be abandoned once more, and J. still running free, it was just depressing.

  When we reached the mainland, the four of us got into a black van Monty had parked at the wharf. Monty started the engine and got us on the road, while Diggs gave him directions back to Mike Reynolds’ place. Diggs had gotten quieter as the day dragged on. He was still in shock over what had happened the night before, I knew—it would be a while before that faded and he transitioned into grief. Now, he sat silent on the other end of the bench seat, our bodies close but not touching, his jaw set and his expression dark. No one does brooding quite like Diggs.

  This time when we went to Mike’s place, Diggs and I made the decision to go in together. The reasoning was that I’d get a chance to talk to Mike myself that way, and maybe glean some insights Diggs hadn’t.

  We got there while the kids were running around the front yard with the dog. Aidan had surrendered his bow and arrow, but I doubted he’d done so willingly. Now, he was chasing another little boy—younger than him by a couple of years, probably—and a little girl who was barely walking. He made machine-gun noises and swooped after the other kids with a plastic airplane, dive bombing them and the dog while they all shrieked and whooped and hollered. They made a hell of a racket, but it looked like they were having fun—even the dog, who was loose in the yard now.

  All the fun stopped the second Diggs and I came into sight, though. Diggs had instructed Monty and Carl to stay out of sight with the van, in case Mike got twitchy and thought he was being inva
ded. I was grateful for his foresight when I saw how the kids reacted.

  The younger boy and girl came to a screeching halt a few feet from us. The girl took one look at me and burst into tears, which made both Aidan and the dog come running.

  “What are you doing back here?” Aidan demanded. The dog got in between us and the kids, suddenly not looking nearly as harmless as he had the night before. “You’re not supposed to creep around here.”

  “We’re not creeping,” Diggs said. “You remember me, right? Diggs—I ran your picture after that ballgame a couple of years ago. You scored the final run after you guys went into extra innings. You played a mean game that day.”

  Aidan softened marginally. The little girl was still wailing, while the younger brother just gaped at us. “Take her in,” Aidan said to his brother. “Tell Mum somebody’s here.”

  Before they could move, Mike’s wife emerged from the house. She had to be at least ten years older than Mike, thin as a menthol smoke, and just as unappetizing. She stood in the doorway of the farthest trailer to the right in baggy sweats and slippers, her hair pulled back in a ponytail.

  “What the hell’s going on?” she demanded at sight of us. I expected her shotgun to come out next, but instead she just bellowed over her shoulder for Mike. In the meantime, Aidan had successfully shooed his siblings, but he and the dog remained with us, stubbornly watchful.

  “You here to tell Mike where I was last night?” he asked me when the other kids were gone.

  “I told you I wouldn’t rat you out,” I said. “I don’t go back on my word. What about you?”

  “I didn’t say anything. It’s none of his business, right?”

  “Thanks,” I said. “We’re here to talk to Mike now, but since you’re here, I thought maybe you could answer a question or two.”

  Aidan frowned. “Nope.” Unequivocal.