Unearthed

by J. S. Marlo

  ***

  “I saw Malcolm. He…” His back erect against the passenger seat, Bill panted like a marathon runner after a gruesome race.

  “Start breathing, then you can talk.” Years on the job had taught Avery patience. While waiting for an explanation, he eased out of the hospital parking lot and into the intersection.

  A cobalt blue sedan fast approaching from his left showed no sign of slowing down despite its signal light flashing right. Avery instinctively jerked the steering wheel right to avoid a collision. The tires hit the curb, and the Blazer drove onto the empty sidewalk as the sedan veered into the parking lot.

  “Idiot,” Avery gritted through clenched teeth. Had he been wearing his uniform, he would have arrested the reckless driver. He looked into the rearview mirror but couldn’t make out the driver’s face, only the Budget sticker on the bumper.

  “He was in a rush.” Bill had caught his breath and regained a steady voice.

  “Tourist.” Some foreigners drove like they owned the town, and their careless attitude infuriated Avery. It’d better be an emergency. “Hold on.” The Blazer rocked as he drove down the sidewalk and onto the street. “Okay, we’re safe. What did you find out on Malcolm?”

  “I saw him at the triage station. He had stitches on his face and burgundy stains on his…” As Bill hesitated, Avery glanced his way. He was rubbing the front of his checkered shirt. “His hospital scrubs.”

  “He’s a doctor, Bill. Blood comes with the job.” But the stitches were odd.

  “It wasn’t blood, it was wine. Red wine. The nurses were having a good chuckle at his expense. From what I overheard, he cut himself opening a bottle early this morning after spending most of the night at the hospital.”

  “Wine in the morning?” Malcolm had no taste, but it explained the broken piece of glass and the burgundy spot on the seat of his car.

  “Except one of the nurses joked he chose the wrong morning to switch from white wine to red.”

  The nurse’s comment, as innocuous as it sounded, caught Avery’s attention. “Did Malcolm answer anything?”

  “He just smiled, but it looked fake.” A lungful of air whished through his teeth. “Rowan loves red wine, Stone. She opened a bottle from Mattie’s special collection when her stepfather came to visit. What if there’s more to that broken bottle than Malcolm’s story?”

  At a loss to picture how anyone could cut his face while opening a bottle, Avery positioned both hands on the steering wheel, tapping it with his fingers. “What about Malcolm’s hands? Were they bandaged?”

  “No. He had a pen in one hand and a chart in the other. No cut or blood that I could see.”

  Bill’s sense of observation served Avery right. “Where does Malcolm live?”

  “A big house on Oceanview Drive. Why? You don’t think he’d be stupid enough to keep Rowan there, do you?”

  “He strikes me as being overconfident.” Only a very skilled or a very clumsy guy cut his face on a bottle without cutting his hands. “I want to have a look at his property.”

  Without a proper warrant, he couldn’t barge inside the house, but nothing prevented him from snooping around—or trespassing.

  Chapter Thirty

  With the shimmering water reflecting in their large windows, the houses on Oceanview Drive looked like they floated over the ocean.

  The curvature of the street and the direction from which Avery approached created the optical illusion, but what a magnificent view. Too bad the tag price was more than he could afford in three lifetimes.

  “Relax, Bill. We’re almost there.” In an attempt to halt the older man’s fidgeting, he turned on the radio.

  —to contain the fire that erupted at Cormoran Vineyard. Motorists are urged to use an alternate route in order not to hinder the effort of the firefighters. An investigation—

  “Jimmy’s vineyard is on fire?” Bill stretched his arm toward the front window, stilling his hand on the glove compartment. “He had the entire electrical system redone last fall. Can’t be the wiring, and there’s no one home to cause a fire. He’s at his cousin’s, somewhere on the mainland.”

  The broken rivet in Rowan’s car. The barrels that Bill fixes for Jimmy. The red wine stain on Malcolm’s shirt and car seat. Jimmy’s absence from the vineyard. The unexplained fire—

  Avery’s mind switched to high gear and assembled the puzzle faster than his right foot pressed on the brake pedal.

  The Blazer swayed on the quiet road and came to an abrupt halt on the unpaved shoulder.

  “Forget Malcolm’s house. We’re going to the vineyard.” The fire couldn’t be a coincidence.

  Pebbles flew right and left, and the tires screeched as he made a sharp U-turn. A glance was all Avery spared in Bill’s direction. The glasses had slid down the handyman’s nose, and his face was bathed in a ghastly shade of white.

  The vineyard was on the other side of town, farther past the hospital. If only he’d listened to the radio sooner, he wouldn’t have wasted precious time driving in the wrong direction. If only—

  If only he hadn’t ordered Rachel to stay behind while he checked the bedroom, she would still be alive. The decision still ate at him, but not as much as admitting that if he could relive that day, he would issue the same order again.

  “My son died in a fire, Stone.” Bill’s voice was as eerie as the memories haunting Avery’s past. “Rowan doesn’t deserve her father’s fate.”

  “No one does.” Good people died everyday. It wasn’t fair, but such was life. The admission lifted a weight off his chest. He pushed the accelerator to the floor. The engine roared in anger, and adrenaline rushed through his veins. “Hold on. It’s gonna be a bumpy ride.”

  Heedless of the drivers honking in protest, Avery sped along the coast. The agony of the chase twisted his guts while the thrill of the upcoming arrest fueled his heart.

  His Blazer responded to the pressure of his foot, to the shift of his hands, but unlike his RCMP cruiser, it didn’t scare the other vehicles out of the way.

  Frustration built as traffic hampered his response. He missed the flashing lights and piercing siren on the roof of his white cruiser. He missed his radio. He missed his uniform. He missed—

  He missed being on active duty, and he wanted back in on the action.

  ***

  The loud metallic bang rang in Rowan’s ears long after the thing fell from above and grazed her head. To find out what had nearly hit her, she rubbed her forehead against the surface of the mysterious object. It was cold and smooth. As she inched along the surface, a protrusion on the object scratched her temple and snagged her blindfold. She jerked her head. The fabric slid off her head and uncovered her eyes. No longer blinded, she searched the darkness.

  Not a single ray of light filtered into the room where she was trapped.

  You need to get out of here. Think.

  The protrusion had dislodged the fabric. It she rubbed her wrists against it, it might be jagged enough to cut her loose. All her senses on alert, she wiggled her body around until her fingers skimmed over the cold surface of the object.

  Keep going. Almost there.

  Shrill laughter halted her progression. Someone was approaching. Someone spoke. And someone else responded. She couldn’t make out all the words, but she picked out two distinct voices.

  “—will kill—she learns—”

  “Don’t tell your—she—”

  Young voices. Children. Out of desperation, Rowan yelled. The waves covered the faint whimper escaping the gag. Mad like a wild horse, she thrashed and kicked. Her right foot hit something hard. Moments later, an object crashed to the floor.

  “Ghosts!” The screams pierced the darkness, echoing the throbbing in her leg. “Run!”

  Nooooooo! Don’t go!

  ***

  Red barricades blocked the road leading to the vineyard, and a detour sign redirected the traffic through a dirt road bordered by potato fields. As he searched for a place to stop, Ave
ry spotted a car, a cobalt blue car, parked along the field near a telephone post. The presence of the reckless driver around the scene of the fire unnerved him.

  Black smoke rose above the vineyard and reduced the visibility. Avery swerved onto the shoulder of the road, sandwiching the blue car between his Blazer and the telephone post.

  “Stay here,” Avery ordered Bill before quickly exiting his vehicle.

  The blue door on the driver’s side opened. Avery grabbed the guy by the collar of his shirt as he disembarked, shoved him against the side of the car, and froze. “Arnarsson?”

  The Icelandic man jerked his body around. “Let go of me.”

  “Easy, Arnarsson.” Avery released him and took a step back to avoid a wandering elbow. “I’m Avery Stone. I’m with the police, and I’m a guest at Buccaneer.” Now wasn’t the time to debate his title or official capacity. “What are you doing here?”

  “I’m looking for Rowan. Do you know where she is?” Apparently unaware of her dire situation, he’d calmed down, but the Scandinavian accent emphasized the urgency in his voice.

  “Get in my truck. We need to talk.” Avery nudged him into the backseat of his Blazer and sat beside him.

  In the front seat, Bill turned around. “What’s the lad doing here?”

  “Good question.” Avery hadn’t decided, yet, if the young man’s presence helped or complicated the search. “Arnarsson?”

  “Nobody is going to stop me from seeing her this time. Not him,” Arnarsson pointed at Bill, “and not that smug doctor.”

  It was nice to hear they all shared the same opinion of Malcolm. “Rowan is missing, Arnarsson.”

  The young man sank into the seat. “What do you mean by missing?”

  During his career, Avery had borne more bad news than good and had never gotten used to it. “It’s a long story, so listen.”

  As he related the events surrounding Rowan’s disappearance and the suspicions he harbored, Arnarsson’s expression grew more solemn until his face resembled gray stonewall.

  “You’re right about the socks. I lived with her. She never wore two of the same. Not once.” To hear Lover Boy had been more than a casual acquaintance didn’t shock Avery, but the reason behind their falling-out intrigued him. “Why would the doctor fake her death if he’s after the bed-and-breakfast? Wouldn’t the house go to her mother or brother?”

  An exasperated sigh depleted Bill’s lungs. “Ever heard of revenge, lad? Rowan dumped the scumbag because she’s still pining over you. Men like Malcolm don’t take humiliation too kindly.”

  “She still loves me?” Lover Boy’s face lit up with pleasure. “We need to find her. What are we waiting for?”

  The older man’s mustache twitched as he mumbled something about youth and taste under his breath. Tempted to add his grain of salt, Avery looked outside in the direction of the fire. A fine layer of ashes carried by the wind covered the windows. Coming here had been a mistake, a mistake he should have realized sooner.

  “Malcolm staged her death to make it look like a drowning.” The doctor wasn’t stupid. Her body couldn’t turn up in the ashes at the vineyard, not without triggering an investigation, and that was something Malcolm would want to avoid at any cost. “Rowan isn’t here.”

  “Are you sure?”

  He nodded at Bill before turning his attention on Bjorn. “Why were you at the hospital?” Arnarsson didn’t appear to be injured; thus, he had no reason to rush to the hospital.

  “I was looking for that doctor.” His gaze wandered to the ceiling. “I went to the bed-and-breakfast first. When no one answered, I went to the hospital. I wanted to confront him, to tell him I intended to win Rowan back.”

  Foolish, but noble. “How did you learn about Malcolm and Rowan?”

  “He told me the first time I came looking for Rowan.” With his chin, Arnarsson indicated Bill. “Rowan had just left in a yellow car, so I drove after them.”

  That explained Lover Boy’s hasty retreat back then. He hadn’t capitulated like Avery had thought, but had chased after them.

  “The name is Bill, lad, and I know it’s too late, but I regret kicking you out. I thought I was protecting Rowan from another smooth talker. I was wrong.”

  The sincere apology gave Avery a new appreciation for the older man. “Sweet, Bill. Now keep talking, Bjorn. Did you talk to Malcolm?”

  “No. When I parked at the hospital, I saw him leave, so I tailed him. He sped across town, but I lost him a few intersections back. I thought he was heading here since that was where he brought Rowan the night he—” Bjorn threw another look at Bill, except this time, it held no grudge. “The night Bill showed me the door.”

  The forgiving look spoke of Lover Boy’s character, and Avery found himself liking the young man. “Did you see Malcolm around the vineyard?”

  “No. The road was blocked, and the only people I could see in the distance were the firefighters. The doctor must have taken a turn I missed. I’d just pulled over when you—when you helped me out.”

  A kindhearted guy with a sense of humor. No wonder Rowan had fallen for the Icelandic guy. Malcolm could never measure up to those standards—and neither could he. “About that…I may have helped a little too much. I’m sorry for the misunderstanding.” While he doubted Bjorn would press charges against him, Avery still owed him an apology for the way he’d treated him. “Now, let’s go back to Malcolm. He lives in the opposite direction. He wouldn’t have rushed to this area unless it was important. He may be making a house call, or he may be here to deal with Rowan.”

  “Give me another chance at charming a pretty nurse.” As he spoke, Bill retrieved his cell phone and dialed a number. “Good morning, sunshine. I need to see my doctor, Chris Malcolm, and I was wondering if he was on duty at the hospital this morning.”

  Very smooth indeed, Bill.

  “I see. Do you know when he’ll be back?” The creases on Bill’s forehead met over the ridges of his glasses. “It’s not that urgent. I’ll book an appointment at his clinic tomorrow. Thank you, sunshine.” He slammed the phone down. “He told the staff he was going home to sleep. Sounds like Malcolm forgot where he lives.”

  Chapter Thirty-One

  The thought of calling the local authorities occurred to Avery, but with only circumstantial evidence and no solid proof linking Malcolm to Rowan’s disappearance, going through the proper channels would take time, and time wasn’t on Rowan’s side, not with the doctor on the move.

  Avery assumed she was still alive, hidden in a secret place. To contemplate any other scenario achieved no purpose other than wasting time.

  According to Bill, the inland portion surrounding the vineyard featured farms and fields—mostly potato fields—and on the coastline were beaches, some with soft slopes and white sands filled with tourists, others with rocky cliffs, pebbly shores, and limited access.

  They needed to find Malcolm. Fast. To cover more ground, Avery thought it best to split up into two groups. He ordered Bill and Bjorn to get into the rental car and search inland while he combed the coastline.

  While yellow cars had never attracted him, Avery applauded Malcolm for buying a yellow BMW. Avery had no access to the provincial registry, but he doubted there were many in circulation on the island. The bright color would make it easier to spot the car in a field or along a deserted road.

  There weren’t many intersections between the vineyard and where Bjorn said he’d lost the doctor. A few dirt paths that ended either at the edge of a precipice or at the ocean and a paved road, on which he drove, which led to one of the most popular beaches.

  Malcolm wasn’t stupid enough to stash her where he could be seen by thousands. The word “stupid” was becoming repetitive.

  Frustrated, he smashed the steering wheel with the palm of his hand. The doctor was an intelligent man. Stepping into his mind proved challenging.

  A parking lot overflowing with vehicles sporting license plates from various provinces and states welcomed him at t
he end of the road.

  “Too many tou—” Tourists died on Avery’s lips at the sight of the familiar yellow BMW parked in the last row near a fence protecting the fragile dune grass. Bloody hell. Anonymity in the middle of the crowd. Smart. Really smart, Malcolm.

  He pulled out his phone and dialed Bill.

  ***

  Chris could have sworn a blue car was tailing him, not that he knew anyone owning such an ugly vehicle. Probably a lost tourist. In the summer, they multiplied like rabbits and littered the island. He couldn’t wait for the fall to return and for the tourists to pack up and depart.

  In any case, he’d left the unfortunate rider in the dust and driven to his favorite beach, where he shed his scrubs and changed into more appropriate attire.

  At the hospital, he’d told the staff he was going home to sleep. In the spur of the moment, he hadn’t been able to come up with a better excuse. If anyone asked, he’d say he went for a dip in the ocean to relax before heading home. Good thing he always kept swim shorts in his trunk.

  Sporting the cool demeanor he’d spent years mastering, he strolled on the beach like a man with no care in the world.

  “Hello, Doc.” One of his teenage patients, Amy Nichol, waved from behind the sandcastle she was building with her little brother.

  He waved back before heading for the water. The girl would make a convenient witness if he ever needed to justify his whereabouts.

  Warmer than usual, the salt water caressed his body. After surfing the waves a few times, he ventured farther into the ocean before swimming parallel to the coast toward the old lighthouse.

  ***

  His call shouldn’t have gone to Bill’s voicemail, and Avery worried something might have happened to the duo. Nevertheless, he left Bill a message about finding Malcolm’s car before walking onto the beach. The trail led here, and he couldn’t afford to go back to check on them.