A Trail of Breadcrumbs

by D E Dennis

  An accident?

  “Ms. Presley,” Michael said cautiously. “I think there has been a miscommunication. We are investigating the death of Harper Rowe and we need—”

  “What?! What did you just say?”

  “I said—”

  “Harper’s dead? When did this happen?” she demanded, the supercilious tone fled in the face of her shock.

  “The Thursday before last. She was murdered, Ms. Presley, and we need to—”

  “I need to speak to you immediately,” Rowan ordered. “Come to my office. Be here in an hour.”

  Click.

  Michael returned the phone to its place. “Ms. Presley is available to speak with us,” he said to Monica, head still reeling. “She said to come by in an hour.”

  Monica let out a breath. “Wonderful. If we’re meeting with her, that means we’re not meeting with Antarr. Let’s go.”

  THEY LEFT QUICKLY BUT the journey itself was not as fast. The factory of Lollipop Gardens was way out of town, where buildings gave way to farmland.

  Monica lowered the window, breathing deeply as the wind rushed in and danced with her hair, sending it flying in all directions. “Why don’t we leave town more often?” she said. “Get away. Enjoy the fresh air.”

  “The air is plenty fresh in town,” he replied mildly.

  She groaned. “You’re too young to be this old. What happened to the old, adventurous Michael? The one who hightailed it out of town the second he graduated to move on to bigger and better things? The one who backpacked Southeast Asia, and made women who were way out of his league fall in love with him.”

  “He’s right here,” he replied, amused. “He’s just not a college student anymore. He’s got a job and responsibilities now.”

  “Do you ever miss it? Snowhaven.”

  “No,” Michael said, smile disappearing. “Why?”

  “I’m just saying, if you did, you can go back. Mom and I are doing fine now. You can move on with your life... and with Samira.”

  Michael’s hands tightened on the wheel. “You talked to her about the other night.” It was a statement, not a question.

  Monica shifted to face him, imploring. “We don’t want to discuss you behind your back, but Mira was really upset after you walked out, and she needed someone to talk to. She’s under the strange impression that I know what goes on in that head of yours and she wanted advice.” She grasped his shoulder. “But it’s not her who needs the advice. I think it’s you.”

  Michael pressed his lips together, saying nothing.

  “Michael, why won’t you just tell her the truth? She knows most of it anyway.”

  He started, swinging his head around to face her. “What?”

  Monica sighed. “She knows about Mom’s cancer. She knows you moved here to be with her, and she moved with you. Why not tell her the rest?”

  “Monica, what do you think the rest is?” he said slowly, eyes drifting back to the road.

  Her hand squeezed tighter. “Tell her that I was seventeen years old and about to go to one of the most prestigious colleges in the country. Tell her Mom’s treatments were draining the little savings she had left.” Monica’s voice shook. “Tell Samira that Mom was too proud to ask Dad for money but as things got more desperate, she called you in tears. Michael, tell her that you gave up the life you had with her in Snowhaven to move back here, take out loans and worked three jobs to put me through school and take care of Mom. Tell her that you broke things off so she wouldn’t be hitched to the mountain of debt you’re still trying to overcome, years later.”

  She gave him a little shake. “You’re so bloody noble. You wanted her to have a better start to her life, but you should have considered what she wanted then, and what she wants now. She was more than happy to live in the shoebox you call home. She just wanted to be with you... and she still does. Michael, you don’t have an infinite number of chances. Stop messing around. Tell her the truth.”

  Michael was silent, but not because he didn’t want to speak, but because he truly did not know what to say. Monica was his best friend. He told her everything. Well... almost everything.

  Mo thinks I’m hiding the debt from Samira. She thinks that’s why I broke it off. She has no idea what the real reason is.

  What I did. And when she does... when Samira does... my chances will have truly run out.

  “WHO KNEW SUCH MASSIVE machines were required to make things so small?” Monica said to him as they watched the taffy puller whirl, stretching the sweet treat in submission.

  “Top of the line.”

  They jumped, spinning around to face their guide.

  “We use only the best here at Lollipop Gardens.” The assistant beamed at them, showing all of her teeth. Maya Bennett had been waiting for them in the lobby when they arrived, a space filled with color, painted treats, and a bubbling indoor fountain, and instead of bringing them straight to Presley, she insisted they have a tour of the facility.

  “You were late,” she explained. “Ms. Presley expected you here at ten, you arrived at ten fifteen. She had to take a conference call.”

  The siblings followed her into the heart of the facility. It was nothing like the main lobby back here. There was no color except the occasional green or silver machine. The floors were gray, the walls were white. Even the uniforms and hairnets of the people silently carrying out their jobs were white.

  “Would you like to sample our chocolate?”

  “Yes, please,” Monica said.

  Mrs. Bennett spun on her heels, setting a brisk pace in the direction of the chocolate.

  “A bit ridiculous blaming us for being late when it takes more than an hour to get here,” Monica said out of the corner of her mouth. “But at least we get free chocolate. Remember when we were little, begging Mom to give us money to buy something from Lollipop Gardens.”

  “I remember her answer was almost always no,” he replied. “They were the best, and most expensive, candy in town.” He shook his head. “And the whole time, the owner was involved in the old Siren Woods Killer case. I wonder what she was doing in the woods that day.”

  “Great thing for me to ask her,” Monica replied.

  They trailed Bennett, listening as she droned on about the business of making candy. When her phone finally rang, Michael perked up.

  “Hello? Yes, Ms. Presley. Right away, Ms. Presley.”

  Bennett smiled at them as she put away the phone. “If you would follow me, I’ll take you to see her.”

  “Thank you,” Monica replied, as she gnawed on her licorice. “This is delicious, by the way.”

  Bennett lifted her chin, grinning. “Why of course it is.”

  They were right on her heels as she took them back into the main lobby and through another door. Stepping into a hallway, Michael noted how eerily quiet it was compared to the whirls and shrieks of the machinery out on the main floor. There were only two doors back here. They passed by the one that said water closet and kept going until they reached the door at the very end of the hall.

  Bennett pushed through and held open the door for them to go in.

  “Good morning, Ms. Presley,” Monica said. “How are you?”

  The woman rose from her seat, eyes traveling up and down them, the same way their eyes were doing to her.

  Rowan Presley was everything Michael was expecting. Red hair pulled back into a severe bun. Her crisp suit a light-sucking black. Her makeup so understated she appeared to not be wearing any. She looked the part of a no-nonsense businesswoman, and this office was exactly what he pictured for such a woman.

  The carpet was a bland gray that matched the concrete floors of the factory. There were no personal photos on the walls, only two paintings of seascapes, and her glass desk had only a neat stack of papers on one side, a monitor on the other, and a keyboard in the middle. Michael wanted to say it was as sterile as a hospital, but even that was underselling it.

  “Mr. Grimm. Ms. Grimm. Please sit.” She gestured
at the two chairs in front of her desk.

  Up close, Michael could see the strands of gray in her hair. She had a few years on him, but he was guessing not that much, maybe early forties.

  “I was shocked to hear your news,” Rowan said as they took their seats. “I spoke to Harper only a short time ago. I can’t believe she’s dead.” Rowan gestured at her laptop. “I’ve been reading up on it but the press haven’t released much. Do you have more information?”

  “We’re still investigating,” Monica said simply. “Did you not know about her death before we told you?”

  She shook her head. “No. I do not have a television in my home nor do I receive a paper. I had no idea she was killed.”

  “Then let us give our condolences. Were you and Harper friends?”

  She shook her head. “We did not know each other well. We only met a few times to discuss the article she was working on.”

  “The one about the children murdered twenty years ago.”

  Michael noted a slight stiffening of her shoulders.

  “Yes,” she replied. “That article.”

  “What did you two talk about?”

  “How is that relevant to her death?” she snapped.

  Michael blinked at her change in demeanor, but Monica took it in stride. “We have reason to believe she was killed because of this article.”

  The defensiveness disappeared. Rowan stared at her, eyes widening. “You can’t be serious. How can that be? Why would someone kill her for wanting to memorialize innocent children?”

  “They would if they thought the article would be about more than just the victims,” said Monica gravely. “Her computers were wiped. All her notes, interviews, and everything she prepared is gone. We don’t believe that is a coincidence.”

  Presley leaned back, hand covering her mouth.

  “Did you know that Harper was related to one of the victims?” Michael asked.

  Rowan shifted her gaze to him and nodded her head. “I did. Harper told me after I turned down her first request for an interview. Her reputation is well-known as is my desire for privacy. I have a business to run and don’t have time for nonsense, but she was persistent. She explained who she was. Who her sister was. And that she wanted to honor the children.” Rowan shifted, clearing her throat. “It did not seem right to refuse her.”

  Michael and Monica shared their patented look.

  “Ms. Presley,” Monica said, turning back to her. “If you don’t mind, we’d like to know what she asked you specifically. Did you two ever venture off the topic of the children?”

  She frowned. “What do you mean?”

  “I mean, did you ever discuss their killer?”

  Her lips almost disappeared; she pressed them together so tightly. “You’re asking if we spoke about Liam Antarr,” she said bluntly.

  “Yes.”

  She swiveled in her chair, giving them the side of her face. “We spoke about that day in the woods, of course, but only because Harper did not want to ask Hazel and Greg directly. She thought it might upset them.”

  “What did happen that day in the woods?” Monica asked.

  “It’s as the papers reported. I was out collecting mushrooms when I heard a noise. A man and two children were tromping through the woods. He did not see me from where I crouched behind the tree, and I thought nothing of it. Until he returned and I saw that he was alone. He was in a hurry, running, and I thought something horrible must have happened. Maybe the children were hurt and he was rushing to get help. I called to him, but he did not hear me. In the end, I went looking for them myself and found two unharmed, terrified children huddling in the dark.”

  “It was lucky you were there,” said Monica.

  “I would say it was luckier that Antarr passed so close to my property.”

  “Your property?”

  “Yes. I live in Siren Woods.”

  “I’m sorry,” Michael said, surprise breaking his silence. “Did you just say you live in the woods?”

  “Yes,” she repeated, addressing him but still speaking at the wall. “My home is in the woods.”

  “How long have you lived there?” he asked.

  “For the past twenty years. Since I was twenty-four.”

  “About Antarr,” Monica said, bringing them back to the point. “Did Harper ask you more about him?”

  “No. There was no more to ask.” A sneer worked its way to her lips. “I did not know the man, nor did I desire to after I realized what he had done. I brought the twins to my home and called the police. The next time I saw him was when I was on the witness stand.”

  “So if you didn’t speak about Antarr, what did you talk about? Did you know one of the children who died?”

  “No.” Her denial was curt and immediate.

  Monica inclined her head. “Okay then, I only have one more question. The letter Harper wrote you. Was there anything in there related to the article or that could shed some light on the case?”

  “A letter?”

  “Yes, it would have gone out four days ago. Have you not received it?”

  Shaking her head, she replied, “As you can imagine, my home is not on a regular mail route. All business mail is sent to the office, and my personal mail is sent to a PO box I keep in town. I only check that box once every two weeks. It must be there.”

  “Any guesses as to why she sent you a letter instead of speaking to you directly?”

  “I am home most days with nonexistent cell reception. Only my assistant has my home number and email address and she knows not to give it to anyone. Harper trying to visit herself would have been foolhardy without me to guide her so in that case—”

  “She had no choice but to mail it to you,” Monica finished. “Whatever it was.”

  Rowan nodded while getting to her feet. “Now, if you’ll excuse me. You said that was the last question and I have work to do.”

  Her tone, stance, and words clearly said they were dismissed and they didn’t argue the matter.

  Bennett led them out of the facility and they piled into Michael’s car.

  “What do you think?” Monica asked.

  “I think she’s telling the truth.” Turning the key in the ignition, Michael peeled out of the parking space. “Harper didn’t grill her about Antarr.”

  “So you think everyone was right. Harper wasn’t investigating Liam Antarr.”

  Michael shook his head. “I didn’t say that. Harper may have been careful to keep the conversation focused on the children, but I don’t for a second believe she wasn’t investigating him. Her job was to expose the truth and hold people accountable for their wrongs. Of course, she would have fought to right the wrong done in her own life. It was probably why she chose that career in the first place. Antarr killed her younger sister and her sole mission in life was making sure he paid for it. I know it would be for me if I was in her place.”

  Monica was quiet for a moment. “What if she did find something? Proof that Antarr was the Siren Woods Killer. We have to find out what it was, Michael. If she died trying to give those children, her little sister, justice, then we need to make sure it wasn’t in vain.”

  “We will, Mo,” Michael said softly. “We will.”

  ELLA WAS AT HER DESK when they returned that afternoon.

  “How’s your morning going? How was class?” Monica said as she handed her a taco.

  “Good. I got a good grade on my essay, fine-tuned my speech for the ball, and spoke to the parents of the other victims. The Miltons wouldn’t speak to me, but after they hung up, I dug up more articles on the Siren Woods murders. I found something I think you’ll be interested in.”

  “Oh?” Michael said. “What is it?”

  “It might be nothing,” Ella admitted, pushing away from her desk. She carried two printouts in her hands and gave one to Monica and Michael. “The articles about the actual arrest of Liam Antarr and his sentencing were easy to find. Those made national news, but the articles on what happened in b
etween were only reported locally by Castle Rock Times. They were smaller back then and not digital. They are slowly updating their archives with past articles, but I was able to find these two. Check out the name.”

  Michael was scanning while she spoke. The article she handed him read “No Justice for Angels” across the top. He hadn’t yet hit upon what he was supposed to—

  “Cheese on bread!” Monica cried. “Rowe?”

  Michael looked up. “What? What am I missing?”

  Ella leaned over and pointed halfway down the paper. “The other papers didn’t say their names, Michael. The names of the investigating officers for the case of the Siren Woods Killer.”

  Michael followed her finger, reading aloud. “It seems there will be no justice for the innocent children who were taken from our community. Sources say charges will not be brought against Liam Antarr in the deaths of Andrea Taylor, Nicholas Milton, and Irina West as Detectives Singh and Rowe have not—”

  Michael stopped, eyes growing wide. “Rowe? As in Harper Rowe?”

  “As in Kaiden Rowe,” Ella said. “Detective Elias Rowe was Kaiden Rowe’s father. He investigated the Siren Woods Killer and as this article harshly implies, he was the one who failed to get justice for those children the first time around.”

  “Goodness, he and his partner couldn’t have had an easy time of it back then,” Monica said. “A town in panic, terrified for their children. The suspect falls into their lap, and they can’t get any evidence to bring to a judge. They must have been the most despised men in Castle Rock next to Liam Antarr.”

  “And Harper happens to marry his son,” Michael added.

  “Wonder how awkward things got around the holidays,” Monica said out of the corner of her mouth.

  Ella shook her head. “Elias Rowe died sixteen years ago, long before his son married. It was... suicide.”

  Monica hissed in sympathy.

  “So, I don’t know if it’s important to Harper’s case, but I thought you would like to know.”

  “Thanks, Ella. This is great work.”

  She gave a little bow and went back to her seat to finish her taco.