Buried Roots

by Cynthia Raleigh

  Nina continued in a monotone, “You need to put the knife in a duffle bag. Take it with you to the canal cruise, the place we went before. Get on the 4:30 cruise and place the duffle on your lap. Someone will make contact with you on the boat. No one else is to board with you. Have your phone with you.”

  “Nina, tell me something, anything you can, have you been hurt or…”

  “I’ll repeat the instructions again.” Tom listened as Nina repeated the same information and hung up. He looked at his phone as though he wondered where it had come from.

  “She sounded, I don’t know…automatic. I’m afraid they’ve done something to her, she wouldn’t answer me, she just kept talking.”

  Archer had come around the desk. He laid one hand on Tom’s shoulder. “I understand your concern, I really do. I wasn’t sure after the first call, but I think, based on what little we got from the throw away phone we found, and hearing this call, I’m pretty sure that was a recording.”

  Tom’s mouth hung open, “You mean I wasn’t talking to her? You mean she didn’t get to hear me and I wasn’t hearing her now? Something could have happened to her since then.”

  “I don’t think that is the case, Tom, I really don’t. I know you can’t avoid agonizing over this, but don’t work yourself up into a lather yet. We don’t have a lot of excess time. We need to get moving. The knife is right here, but I need to get a duffle, which I can get from the locker room. We have to get through Richmond to the basin so you can make that cruise.”

  Tom squeezed his eyes shut and rubbed them with the thumb and forefinger of his right hand. “Yeah, you’re right. Let’s get to work.” He followed Archer out of the office and to the lobby.

  Tom found himself in the midst of a maelstrom of activity. He stood in the lobby, feeling out of place and helpless. Archer jogged out to him and tossed a duffle bag, “Put the knife in that.” Then he jogged away again.

  When he came back, ten minutes later, he said, “Let’s go. You drive your vehicle and I’ll follow.”

  “Do you think that’s wise? I don’t think they are going to want a trooper following me to the cruise launch.”

  “I’m not going all the way to the launch. I’ll park a few blocks away. Officers Theresa Malone and Cory Williams are going to take the same cruise as you. They are dressed in civilian clothes and are already on their way there. They won’t arrive at the same time that you do. They’ll be just another tourist couple taking the canal cruise. I’m not going to tell you what they look like because I don’t want any recognition to show in your face if you look at them. I’m thinking the guy is going to approach you at the end of the cruise. Wouldn’t work well to do it at the beginning. Theresa and Cory will be seated in the back so they can observe everyone on the cruise.”

  “I see. Should I just sit through the cruise like a regular tourist?” Tom asked, nervous.

  “Yes, do exactly that. It will be a temptation to look around at the others on the cruise, but try not to do that. We don’t want to make him more nervous than necessary. I have no idea if the guy will be armed or not, but I don’t want to risk anyone else. If we had more time, I would prefer to arrange for all the passengers to be officers, but there isn’t time for that without raising the hue and cry that there is something going on. That could either scare him off and make him angry, or he may realize it isn’t a ‘natural’ situation, which we definitely do not want to do as long as he has Nina.”

  “Do you think he will bring Nina with him?”

  “I really don’t know. I can’t imagine he’ll bring her on the cruise, but she could be somewhere nearby. That’s what I’m hoping for.”

  “She has to be somewhere near, he can’t expect me to cooperate with him and not give her back.”

  “That makes sense to us, Tom, but we don’t know how this person thinks. We will have officers posted around the cruise launch area, cars with officers in them not far away, and an ambulance ready but parked at a fast food place like they are having their lunch.”

  Worried, Tom asked, “You think we are going to need an ambulance.”

  “It isn’t that I think we will, but I’d rather have one available and not need it.”

  Tom looked at the clock on the wall. “Let’s get going. I’d rather be early and have to wait to board than be late.”

  Archer nodded and they both headed out to the parking lot.

  Chapter 34

  Tom was a reasonably even-keeled man. He was able to think through problems and react calmly in an emergency. That unperturbable air was evaporating like water splattered on a hot griddle. He had been tolerably composed driving into Richmond as long as Archer was behind him, but once Archer turned off and vanished, he felt his head start to throb and the sweat begin beading on his forehead.

  He found a place to park and paid for two hours. He made sure he had his wallet, slung the duffle as casually as he could manage over his shoulder, and locked the vehicle. It was four o’clock. He tried to appear nonchalant but felt stiff and mechanical. Maybe this would all be over in a few hours, just a horrible memory.

  After purchasing a ticket for the 4:30 cruise, Tom checked the time on his phone again, then silently cursed himself for checking too many times in case he was being watched. Then he remembered that he was supposed to be there and anxiety would be expected. His concern was not to give away the police officers on the cruise. It only served to emphasize his nervousness to realize he was having trouble keeping things clear in his mind. Information and instructions were concepts that came and went and he didn’t seem to have a solid grasp on any of them. He was fearful that he would make some huge error, give it all away, and endanger Nina even more, or worse, lose her completely. He wiped his forehead and rubbed the sweat on the leg of his jeans.

  He tried strolling around the area but felt too self-conscious. He found a bench and sank down onto it, duffle in his lap, rested both arms on top of it and waited.

  ***

  Archer pulled the cruiser into a parking space in a lot behind a nearby parking garage. He didn’t need a clear view because the canal wasn’t visible from this distance anyway. He parked between a large van and an SUV with a hard-shell luggage container clamped to the roof. Not too far away from where the tour would load and return and not too close to be obvious.

  He was going over and over the information when the radio beeped, dispatch calling for him to contact the station. He called in and was asked to hold for Max. Max had been following up with Valerie, Roger Morris’s wife.

  “Detective Vaughn?” Max’s voice boomed through the cell phone.

  “Yeah, what’d you find, Max? Did you get hold of Valerie Morris?”

  “No, I didn’t talk with her, but I got some interesting information.”

  “I’m ready for some interesting information, let’s hear it.”

  “Valerie and Roger live just outside Bon Secour, Alabama. Their home phone goes to voice mail, and there is an error message stating the box is full and no message can be left. Mrs. Morris works at a local seafood restaurant in Gulf Shores. She hasn’t been in to work in over two weeks. She didn’t call in and they haven’t heard from her. The last day there was activity on her bank account was eleven days ago, a week ago Sunday. At that time, she withdrew two hundred dollars. Nothing since then. The neighbors on both sides report they haven’t seen a car in the drive, or anyone coming or going at the house for at least ten days, which fits with the employer’s time frame as well as the bank activity.”

  “What about vehicles? What do the Morris’s drive?”

  “They have one vehicle, a 2003 Nissan Altima, dark blue, Alabama plates. It’s already gone out to patrols.”

  “Good deal. Can we get one of the locals to check the house, make sure she isn’t in there, if you know what I mean?”

  Max’s answered, “We can, but one of the neighbors talked to Valerie’s sister, Monica, a week ago Monday, the day after the last withdrawal. The sister was at the Morris’s house a
nd the neighbor talked to her in the driveway. She said she was picking up their dog to keep it at her own house while her sister and brother-in-law were on vacation. The sister has been in the house, picked up the dog, and left since the Morris’s were seen.”

  “That is some very enlightening information.” Archer sat lost in thought for just a moment. “Great work, Max, thanks.”

  “Anytime, Detective. Holler at me if you need something else.” Max hung up.

  ***

  Perri had read the notes as fast as she could. She was afraid of scanning too quickly and missing something vital since this was the last document she hadn’t read. Much of the content was general observations about battle strategies and types of weapons for different terrains. There was a short section concerning some Revolutionary War sites. The last few pages concerned the Civil War; Perri tried to read this as quickly as she could, but it ate up the minutes and she didn’t see references to any names. There was another portion prior to that which named various battles in different wars between the Revolutionary and Civil wars.

  The political causes and battle location of the smaller wars were less familiar to Perri but she knew about when they occurred: War of 1812, which was obvious; the Creek Indian War which was also early 19th century, 1813-1814; and the Spanish-American War in 1898.

  She saw nothing in the War of 1812 information, and it was too early for Elizabeth and Jasper. Since the knife had been custom made for Jasper, he had to be an adult at the time. She was scanning, and sometimes having to rescan, the information about the Creek Indian War when she saw a name. It wasn’t the same person, but it was the same surname she had read earlier, in one of Elizabeth’s letters. She sat very still for a moment, felt the memory teasing at the edges of her conscious thoughts. That’s what had been nagging at her. She closed her eyes and breathed in and out, trying to calm her thoughts enough to let the memory surface.

  When it did, Perri lurched out of her chair, drawing attention from the researchers seated closest to her. She needed copies of the documents. She couldn’t take them with her and she couldn’t make calls from the research room.

  Chagrined, Perri smiled weakly at an acidic looking woman at the next table. Her overture was met with obvious disdain. Perri’s smile vanished and she abandoned that tack. She made a deliberate attempt to be obviously careful with the documents as she picked them up; she didn’t want to appear clumsy or to be damaging the archives. She requested copies of the notes and was told it might be half an hour since there were several others waiting in front of her. It was 3:23. She returned to the table to replace the other documents while waiting.

  After placing the stack back into the archival box, Perri fidgeted with the lid, trying to avoid the withering scrutiny of dried-apple-face woman while making less than casual glances at the desk to see if the copies were ready. Trying to cover her restlessness, she reread a couple of the letters and glanced through the other documents.

  The woman behind the desk had been right; it was going to take the full thirty minutes for her copies. After a cool look from the librarian, she focused on the box. She turned the lid over and over, finally laying it right side up on the table in front of her. Her gaze on the lid was bleary as she organized what she had learned into something coherent. Her vision may have been cloudy, but her brain was aware enough to nudge her attention back to what she was seeing. She read the label on the outside of the box. And she read it again.

  The librarian cleared her throat and held the copies aloft to draw Perri’s attention. Perri brought the box and lid back to the counter. She pointed to the label and asked the librarian, “What does this mean, the date and name in terms of its relationship to the contents of this box?”

  “That’s the accession date, meaning the date these materials were donated to the archives. And this is the donor. Much of the documents that make up our archives have been donated by…”

  “Yes, that’s excellent, thank you.” Perri paid for her copies and, seeing the startled look on the woman’s face, repeated, “Thank you.” She fled the research room. Her fingers fumbled as she attempted to open the locker where her purse and satchel were stored. Finally, she became coordinated enough to open it and tore the items out of the locker, the leather of her purse scraping against the metal edge leaving a long rough mark along the back.

  Perri raced down the stairs, out the front doors, and down the nine steps to the sidewalk. It was 3:57. There was heavy foot traffic on the sidewalk and Broad Street was crowded with cars. The light rain had stopped and the walks were dry. Perri went around the corner onto 9th Street and ran zig-zag around people and trees. At the intersection of 9th and Marshall, she reached one of the entrances to the underground parking area. She took a few steps into the opening, far enough to be out of sidewalk traffic and to dampen the noise without being in the way of cars entering from the street.

  It was nearly four o’clock. There should be some news by now and she shouldn’t be interrupting Nina’s call. Perri had Archer’s number in her received call list, but she hadn’t added it to her directory. She was rapidly scrolling to find the number that must be his while exhaling through her clenched teeth, “Come on, come on.” She found a number with the right area code that she didn’t think was the hotel and tapped the button. The phone was a little slow. She’d had it a long time and it was winding down to the end of its life. She tapped over and over until the screen displayed an image of a wiggling old-style phone receiver. She wasn’t sure if the signal was strong enough beneath all the layers of concrete and steel, so she shuffled half the distance to the entrance. Finally, she could hear the phone ringing. Her back and neck broke out in a sweat waiting for Archer to answer.

  Archer had just snapped his phone back into its case after talking to Max when it rang again.

  “Yep, everything is going to happen at the same time.” He pulled the phone out again, “Hello?”

  “Archer? This is Perri Seamore.”

  “Hey Perri, hi, everything ok?”

  “Yes, with me it is. Have you heard any more from Nina?”

  “Yes. Um, right now we’re in the middle of trying to resolve the issue. I’m sure we can tell you more later.”

  “I understand. I called to tell you what I found.” Perri felt a little breathless and she paused.

  “What have you found? Something that will help?”

  “I don’t know, I hope so. Look, I’m not a professional and I don’t want to point fingers at anyone who isn’t involved, but, well I was reading through a packet of information in the library.”

  “Yes?”

  “There’s no way I can tell you all the details now, but I have to tell you that I did find reference to that side knife that Nina bought and I know to which family it belonged.”

  “That’s great news. Who? What family?”

  “The Graham family. It took me a couple of minutes to put the pieces together, to remember where I’d heard the name. Wasn’t that professor who came in to evaluate the knife named Graham? Dr. Graham?”

  “Yes.” Archer felt a sheet of cold slither up his back, over his shoulders, and up his neck which then turned hot. His ears burned like he’d just come into a warm house from a snowstorm. “Yes, his name was Orcenith Graham.”

  “And I believe Tom said he was from further south, right? He’s from Georgia?”

  “Yes, that’s right.”

  “I’ll explain it all more in detail later, and I have copies of the documents. According to what I read, that knife was supposed to be left to one of Dr. Graham’s ancestors when his father died, but it was mistakenly overlooked and buried with him.”

  “Meaning?”

  “Again, I’m not sure, but it would mean that the knife wasn’t exactly ‘recovered’ by that Roger Morris guy as it was dug up.” Perri hesitated, Archer said nothing. “I mean, the man’s grave, his name was Jasper Graham, his grave was robbed to get the knife.”

  “Are you serious about this?”

/>   “Yes, I am, I wouldn’t make up something as dire as that. Archer, there’s more, but that part can wait. The most important thing right now though is that part of Dr. Graham’s family, his direct line, originally lived Richmond.”

  “I don’t understand what significance that has.” Archer was confused, his mind trying to work on several situations at once.

  “What I’m saying is that this is how you might be able to find Nina. Dr. Graham’s family, as far back as 1752 anyway, is from Richmond, based on documentary evidence I’ve seen. They didn’t move further south until the late 18th century, and then it was only part of the family who moved to Alabama. Different generations have moved back and forth ever since. The Grahams had extensive property in the Richmond area and beyond. They had more than one property, but the ones within Richmond proper were businesses. The property which appears to have been a homestead is west of Richmond. I don’t know if it is, but if that property is still in the Graham family − Dr. Graham maybe even be the one who owns it − it may be where Nina is being held. She has to be somewhere, and I’d think that would be a place that’s very unlikely for anyone to look. It isn’t common knowledge.”

  Archer felt the urgency level climbing. He whistled through his teeth very softly. “If Dr. Graham has property in the area, why would he stay at the visitor accommodations at the University?”

  “If he’s attending the conference every day, it would be much closer and even if he does still have a house here, it may not be in livable condition, depends on how old it is and whether or not it has been taken care of. I really don’t know.”

  “Please tell me you know where it is?”

  “I know about where, but not precisely where. I have a very old description of sorts in a property dispute claim from the late 1800s, all these documents were really old. But we shouldn’t need to try to decipher the old description if someone can check the current property assessments for ownership and see if there is a Graham who owns a piece of property. I saw the name Graham when I read the dispute, but at the time it didn’t hold any more meaning for me than another name. The issue is that it is west of here in Chesterfield County, near a waterway called Horsepen Creek. I’m nowhere near an Assessor’s office for that county. It is possible to do a very quick property search online, but I’d have to have the street number and name and I don’t have any idea. A lot of the land around that creek is still pretty rural. According to the online satellite images, it looks a little swampy.”