“You’ve suffered great sadness in life, but God did not give you the cancer.” A few moments later Isabella said, “If it will ease your conscience, I can arrange for you to make your confession.”
This caused Renée to laugh. “I’ve already made a fool of myself to one priest.”
She shared what had happened when she’d attempted to confess her sins.
“You did not commit a mortal sin. It’s time you stop punishing yourself. Self-flagellation is an archaic tradition.” Isabella sighed deeply. “The priest you spoke with was very wise in telling you that the only way to liberate your soul is to tell Michael the truth. He loves you. He will understand.”
“The risk is too high.” Renée shook her head. “I couldn’t bear to lose my family. I have lost too much already.”
* * *
Early the next morning, the two sisters parted warmly. Isabella left for her work at the community center, and Renée told her she’d take the train back to New York. But she had one more planned stop before heading home to begin her treatment. For who knew if she’d even have the chance again?
“I’m Isaac,” the Uber driver introduced himself and confirmed the address. “Is this a one-way trip?”
“No, I’ll want you to wait and bring me back to South Station, if that’s convenient.”
“I am at your service.” The driver had a warmth about him. “Some light classical music for the ride?”
“That would be nice. How long will it take?” she asked.
“About an hour each way. It’s a really pretty drive.” Isaac put the car in gear and said, “Sit back and relax.”
Relax? Not likely. This was her personal road to perdition. There would be no pleasure in the task ahead of her.
20
Cassandra
Whale Rock ~ Present Day
I couldn’t get that woman from the Wellfleet church out of mind, which reminded me of why I had come back to The Bluffs in the first place. The priest had given me a list of items they could use, so I started in the barn to collect the now deflated air mattresses that had been set up for the Parsons crew.
My heart sank to see my unadorned easel in the corner. How long had it been since I’d picked up a brush? I walked over and began sorting through the canvases resting against the back wall of the studio and picked up one of the paintings commissioned by the Chamber of Commerce to promote the recent tall ship visit. It had been a pleasant project and fun to see the posters with my rendering of the schooner all around the Cape. Why then were my nostrils filling with my ancestors’ strong warning scent? I looked around to see what might be causing them concern. Nothing seemed amiss.
“What? What are you trying to tell me?” I asked aloud.
* * *
A few hours later, I’d returned from making my second delivery to Wellfleet and was quite pleased with my success in figuring out why the woman from the church shelter looked familiar. While in the pantry trying to scrounge up something suitable for dinner, I’d been sifting through all that had happened in this long day. Sadly, none of it brought us any closer to finding little Lucas Kleister.
Whistler leaped to his feet, and a moment later Laura hobbled in.
“Hey, boy.” The shepherd circled her, waiting patiently as she extracted a treat from her pocket. “Where is everyone?”
“In here.” I stepped down from the small ladder, holding a can of chickpeas and a box of couscous. I gave her a moment to settle in before announcing, “I found her.”
“Found who?” She sat down so she could elevate the booted foot and give Whistler a head rub.
“The woman who was passing around a photo the day of the storm.”
“You’re kidding. Where was she?”
“Well, I didn’t actually find her, but I know who she is. Kind of. Do you recall seeing a smallish woman wearing a dated skirt and sweater at the shelter today?”
“Gray cardigan?” she asked.
“That’s right.” I set the staples on the counter and leaned against it.
“Who could miss that? It was ninety degrees today.” She chewed her lip before adding, “But I only saw the woman from a distance.”
“Well, she looked familiar, and it was bugging me that I couldn’t place her. When I went back to deliver another load of supplies, it was with hopes of talking to her, but she wasn’t there.”
“Too bad.”
“However”—I raised my index finger—“I did chat with some other people and get this. One of the men told me that she’d show everyone who came into the shelter a picture of a man she was trying to find.” I lifted a shoulder. “It has to be the same woman.”
“Did you see it? The picture?”
“No.”
“Could the man describe the guy in the picture?”
I shook my head. “He thinks Father Sebastian might have a copy. He wasn’t there either, but I left word for him to call me.” I took a seat beside Laura to show her a picture of the woman another person at the shelter had texted to me. “Take a look.”
Laura’s mouth fell open in an almost comical way when I showed it to her. “I don’t believe it.”
“What?”
She pulled out her phone, flipped through until she found what she was looking for, and held it next to mine.
“It’s the same woman I saw walking your property those early mornings.”
I squinted, comparing the two photographs.
“The light’s bad and it’s a little blurry, but check out the head. Same tight bun.”
I leaned back and blew out a breath. “We have to find her.”
“What’s this?” Laura accidently flipped back to the previous photo on my phone, which happened to be the evidence bag holding the key ring. Her eyes widened. “The dumpster key ring!”
“It must be. I wouldn’t have guessed it was a key ring if you hadn’t told me.” I explained how I came to have the photo. “Look closely and you’ll see a ‘C’ written on the key label.”
“Lee Chambers?” Laura yawned, though whether from fatigue or the boring clue, I couldn’t tell. I, too, had been hoping the key ring would tell us more.
“Or Wes Creed,” I suggested.
She looked again at the photo. “Could be anything really. The rest of the label’s been covered by writing on the evidence bag. I’ll see what I can find out.”
* * *
After Laura went upstairs with Whistler, my phone buzzed with a call from my sister.
“What’s up, Zoe?”
“I wanted to apologize to you.”
“O-kay?” Now this was unusual.
“I know I often cut you out of my life, and I was unfair to you yesterday.” She took a breath. “Thank you for inviting me to The Bluffs. I’m just not ready.”
“I hope you will be one day soon,” I said.
“Me too.”
Since Zoe was in a rare contrite mood, I asked about her meeting with the attorney. “Are you going ahead with the divorce?”
“Yes, and it’s going to be expensive. For Oliver, that is.” This was followed by a cynical giggle.
“Well, he should have thought of that before he cheated.”
“I don’t think he honestly believed I would leave him.”
“You should move away from there.” Before he charms you into another reconciliation, was what I wanted to say. Instead, “Move back here, Zoe. When you are ready.”
“Have you read the articles I sent you?” she asked, putting an end to that discussion.
“Most of them. You think it’s possible that Mama’s miscarriages were the result of a genetic abnormality?”
“It does seem much more logical than a curse cast upon our family by a drunken Englishman.”
“Well, when you put it like that,” I deadpanned, though the room filled with a strong disapproving smell. Percy and Celeste evidently didn’t get the joke.
“Regardless, you’re pushing forty.”
“Thanks for the reminder.”
<
br /> “I’m just saying, if you and Daniel are planning to start a family, you should get tested. And soon.” She cleared her throat. “I’d very much like to be an auntie one day.”
“I’d like that too.” I paused just a second before venturing into the taboo territory of my sister’s inability to conceive. “Did you have miscarriages, Zo-Zo?”
She didn’t answer right away, making me certain I’d overstepped. Finally, she said, “Yes, but not like Mama.”
“How do you mean? Not as many?”
“Hers took such a toll on her, both physically and emotionally.”
“Did you learn that from Mama’s diary?” I asked. Mama’s journal had been a point of contention between us ever since I learned it had been sent to Zoe, rather than to me, after Granny Fi died. I never would have even learned of the journal’s existence had it not been for Edgar. Last year, when Edgar returned to me some Mitchell family correspondence found in his files from the book he published years ago, The Enduring Mysteries of Cape Cod, they had included excerpts from a journal Mama kept. Once I knew it existed, I’d yearned to get my hands on it.
“There was no need to read a diary to figure it out. I witnessed it, Cassie.” There was a finality in her tone that warned me off asking anything further. I guess we were back to Zoe cutting me out of her life again. Mama’s too.
* * *
It was late when Daniel finally made it home. Laura had long gone to bed, and who knew if Jason would make it back tonight, with the long hours he was keeping.
“Have you eaten?” I caressed his tired face.
“Not really hungry.”
“I whipped up a chick-pea salad that’s pretty yummy.” I pulled out a kitchen chair, and he landed heavily into it. I grabbed the power salad from the refrigerator and set the bowl in front of Daniel, then took a seat across from him. “Where’ve you been?”
“The Martinez took a hit and needed to get in for repairs if we’re to be up and running again next week. Since Johnny’s been ferrying people from Wellfleet, that left me.”
“And it took until now?”
“No. Brooks asked if I’d meet with Matthew Kleister’s father.”
“Why did Brooks want you to meet with him?”
“He had some other pressing issues that came up.” He held up his hands to fend off any questions. “I don’t know what they were. Will Kleister asked for the meeting. He and his wife brought Nicholas back because the boy wasn’t adjusting well being separated from the family. The senior Kleisters were lucky to find a room in Orleans for tonight and will bring Nicholas here to Whale Rock in the morning.” Daniel pushed the chickpeas around with his fork, not eating anything. “Apparently Nicholas had a terrible nightmare last night and said something about waiting for a signal from Lucas. He also mentioned Christopher. However, when he fully awakened and was asked about it, he wouldn’t talk.”
“Did Mr. Kleister tell you anything else?”
“Actually, he gave me quite an earful,” he said, finally taking a bite of the salad. “This is good.”
“It’s a Karoo recipe.” I’d made a trade with the owners of my favorite South African restaurant: a small painting for the recipe. It was well worth it. “Anything you can share?”
“If you promise to keep this on the down low.”
I jokingly made a scout’s three-finger salute.
He pointed his fork at me. “I mean it. Tell nobody. Especially not Laura.” I guessed he was concerned about her job at the Times.
“When have I ever blabbed?” I was a little defensive.
“Sorry. I’m tired and this is extremely sensitive information.”
I tried not to show my eagerness to be in on this new confidential revelation and waited patiently as he kept eating.
“Helene Kleister”—he scraped the last chickpeas from his plate– “has had addiction problems in the past, and he’s concerned that she may have started again over the summer.”
“Adderall?”
Daniel nodded. “Her father-in-law tells me they believe it began following a difficult delivery of the twins. Apparently, she didn’t cope well with the responsibility, even with help. Evidently, she was very driven professionally, and being out of the career loop these past two years took a toll on her self-esteem. It wasn’t an easy transition from high-powered attorney to stay-at-home mom. She was able to hide it pretty well until she returned to work. There were some critical errors, and she was placed on a leave of absence. But the family has high-level connections. Her parents own the law firm where she worked.” He raised his brows in a knowing way. “She went through rehab, and it was all swept tidily under the rug.”
“Did you tell him about the supply of Adderall I found?”
“No. I’ll pass along the details to Brooks and let him decide what to do with it.”
“Do you think it’s possible Helene accidently hurt Lucas?”
Daniel sucked in a breath. “I don’t know. Anything is possible.”
I thought of what I’d found at The Lookout earlier. The scissors and the bottle of pills, both in easy reach of the Kleister children. Also floating back to mind was the memory of how distressed Nicholas had been the day the storm hit. The room filled with the unwanted acrid burning odor, which I hoped wasn’t a signal I was on the right track.
I diverted the conversation to the mystery woman, telling Daniel what I’d figured out about her so far.
“It would be good if you could track her down and find out who she was looking for, even if only to eliminate it as a possible lead to Lucas.”
“Or Lee Chambers,” I added. “Has anything more been learned about him?”
“He’s a native of Massachusetts. Lots of priors. He’d been serving a hefty sentence for selling drugs but was recently paroled as part of a reformed repeat drug offender law.”
“And there he was, dealing again.”
“Allegedly. And even so, a suspicious death still needs to be solved, even if he’s a criminal.”
“Not good company for Wes Creed to be associating with … allegedly.” I then filled him in on my discussion with Christopher earlier in the day, which now seemed more like a week ago.
“Have you told Brooks?” he asked, placing his plate in the dishwasher before opening the freezer and taking out a pint of mint chocolate chip.
“I called and left a message. Haven’t heard back from him.” I joined him at the counter, with my own spoon poised to dive in. “Something’s going on with him.”
“Besides having to admit defeat on the missing child case and having an unsolved death to deal with?” He took a bite of ice cream, then shook his head. “This is not good for Whale Rock, and that’s a lot of pressure.”
“Yeah.” I savored one last bite of the frozen treat before tossing my spoon into the sink. “I’ve known him a long time. There’s something else going on.”
Daniel kept his gaze on the nearly empty pint and said nothing.
“You know something,” I accused.
“Moi? You jest.” Daniel finished off the ice cream and shook his head. “When have I ever been able to penetrate the unyielding force field erected by all you Whale Rock-ettes?”
It was his playful name for the natives, but his joking did nothing to lessen my suspicions that Daniel knew something about Brooks. They’d initially been adversaries in a tug-of-war for control over a local missing persons case last year. But after Daniel retired from the FBI and moved to Whale Rock, they’d settled into an easy bro-ship.
I supposed as police chief it was difficult for Brooks to form many attachments beyond his old group of high school cronies. I consoled myself with the understanding that whatever it was, I’d eventually find out. Such was the nature of living in a small, tight-knit community.
21
Cassandra
I picked up my phone from the bedside table to check the time after awaking to the sound of Daniel’s muffled voice coming from the bathroom.
“These insane
ly early morning calls are getting to be a regular thing,” I said when he emerged with his own phone in hand.
“Good thing I’m used to rising at the crack of dawn.”
“Yes, but what about your roommate?” I rolled onto my side.
“She’ll have to adjust.” Daniel reached down to smooth my messy hair from my face and sat on the edge of the bed. “Remember the guy from the party house who claimed he witnessed an altercation between Savage and Chambers?”
“Uh-huh.” I rubbed the sleep from my eyes.
“He’s nowhere to be found, but all his belongings, including his cell phone, are still at the house. What kid that age goes anywhere without his phone?” Daniel said. “Also, our new carriage house tenant was spotted in town last night.”
“Maybe he had a meeting with the attorney?” I mumbled.
“Or maybe he had something to do with this kid going missing.”
This seemed a considerable leap, but not relishing another Ted Bundy lecture, I said, “Another mystery for the incomparable Daniel Benjamin to solve?”
I stretched, exposing my phoenix tattoo, which Daniel absently traced with his index finger. As he did this, the lovely scent of caramel descended on me, offering a brief respite from worry.
“I’m just one of a team working on this.”
“I thought you retired from the FBI. Or was that the other guy I was supposed to marry?”
He now came at me with fingers poised to tickle, causing me to shriek and roll off the other side of the bed.
“You’re evil.”
“And you love it.” He grinned wickedly and headed for the shower.
I found Laura down in the kitchen, munching on a slice of peanut butter toast and giving the crusts to Whistler. There was a half-filled carafe in the coffee station.
“Jason already gone?” I asked.
“An early summons from Brooks.”
“I didn’t even hear him come in last night. Must have been even later than Daniel.” I noted her steaming mug and asked, “Is it okay for you to drink coffee?”
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