Jackal

by Jackal in the Mirror (retail) (epub)

  “Sorry, ma’am,” he removed his hat and bowed his head in a sign of contrition.

  “It’s all right.”

  He opened the door for Sarah and bowed. “Please.” Sarah stepped in and thanked the man, who closed the door behind her.

  A petite young woman with very short platinum hair, heavy black eye makeup, and large round glasses stood behind a small counter. “Hi there, I’m Ann. Welcome to Cozy Cabins. You looking to book one?”

  Sarah approached the young woman. “I’m not sure if I’ll be staying yet. Where exactly am I? The fog made it impossible to read the road signs.”

  “North Lake.”

  Sarah sighed. “Could you tell me if there’s a sheriff’s department nearby?”

  “Are you in trouble?” Ann asked with concern.

  Sarah smiled. “No, no. I just need to find it.”

  Ann raised her eyebrows. “Are you lost or something? I can call the Sheriff if you’d like.”

  Sarah tried to ease the woman’s concerns. “No, that won’t be necessary. I’m perfectly all right. I’m looking for a friend of mine that does some consulting for the police or the sheriff’s departments, only I’m not certain which station he’s working with.”

  Ann thought it over. “Well I’d say he’d be with the Chief, wouldn’t you?”

  “That makes sense. Where would I find him?”

  The young woman giggled. “Lakeport, of course.”

  “How far is that from here?”

  “Well, let me get you the address. Hold on.” She grabbed her cell phone and typed. She scrolled and tapped a few times, grabbed a piece of paper, and wrote down the address. “Here you go. Do you have a GPS?”

  “My phone’s been acting up—can you give me a sense of where it is?”

  “Nothing to it. I’ll write it down for you. Sounds more complicated than it really is.” She wrote the directions. “At the traffic circle take the first exit onto Parallel Drive. They’re right there on the left.” She handed Sarah the paper.

  “Thanks. Is there a place for breakfast nearby?”

  “Yeah, there’s a coffee shop down the street. You can leave your car right here if you like. It’s easier to walk down there. Parking can be tough.”

  “Thanks. I’m Sarah by the way.” She extended her hand.

  She shook Sarah’s hand. “If you decide to stay, make sure you come back here. The cabins are real nice.”

  “I will. Thanks for all your help, Ann.”

  “No sweat. Bye.”

  “Bye.”

  Outside, Sarah locked her car and made her way toward the coffee shop. As she walked down the street she caught sight of a metallic-blue Jeep Wrangler coming towards her. “Andrew’s car,” she whispered. The Jeep drove past her and disappeared around the next corner.

  She shook her head and continued walking. Now, I’m seeing things.

  She entered the coffee shop to find a picture-perfect country-style room complete with doilies, wooden chairs with tied-on cushioned seats, matching curtains, and a delicious scent of freshly baked bread.

  A young woman who could’ve passed for Dorothy in The Wizard of Oz welcomed her with a smile. “Good morning, I’m Amy your hostess. Breakfast for one?”

  “Good morning to you Amy, and yes, thank you.”

  “Please, follow me.”

  The coffee shop was full, with only a couple of empty tables. Sarah followed the young woman to one and settled into a chair. The woman handed her the menu. “Would you like some coffee?”

  “I’d love some, thanks.”

  “Curtis will be your waiter, and he’ll be here in no time. Enjoy your breakfast.”

  “Thanks.” Sarah had barely opened the menu when her coffee appeared, along with a glass of water.

  Curtis, a freckled redhead decked out in a checkered shirt with a bowtie, black pants, and a forest green apron, grinned down at her. “Good morning, I’m Curtis, and I aim to please. Are you ready, or would you like some suggestions?”

  Sarah closed the menu. “I’d love suggestions, thank you.”

  “We bake our own bread and pies as well as doughnuts, bear claws, and all that good stuff that goes real well with our fresh fruits. We make the best pancakes in the area and serve them with our homemade syrups, and anything with eggs is cooked to perfection. Our famous Eggs Benedict are mouth watering.”

  “Well, Curtis, you’ve done a superb job of tempting me. From that marvelous list, what would you choose?”

  “For the eggs I’d go with the Benedict, but if you prefer pastry, I’d say a sampler basket with our fresh-picked berries and a side of cream.”

  “The sampler with the berries and cream it is. You’re well versed on the food—you make it all sound delicious.”

  “I should. It’s my folks’ place. Amy, the hostess is my little sister. My mom is the chef and my dad does the business stuff. I’m hoping to train as a chef and follow my mom. Sis likes the business side, and schmoozing with the guests. So, we’re here to stay, it looks like. ”

  Sarah smiled. “Well, Curtis, I wish you all the very best.”

  “Thanks. I’ll be back with your food in no time.”

  Sarah sat back and prepared to enjoy her cup of coffee.

  Recurrence

  The familiar rhythmic paddling broke the near-stillness of the lake, the crickets chirping in harmony with the oars. The weathered rowboat slid across the water under low-hanging clouds.

  The nude corpse of yet another woman lay irreverently in one corner of the boat. The rowing ceased and the oars were brought in. The shadow of the man lifted the woman’s body and slipped it overboard. When the ripples subsided, the boat moved away, a dark silhouette bent over the oars.

  12

  The Contact

  “Ma’am? Are you all right?” Curtis stood next Sarah. She didn’t respond, staring instead into the cup of coffee she held in one hand. “Ma’am?” Curtis reached and placed his hand gently on Sarah’s shoulder.

  She jerked back and looked up at a concerned Curtis. “What?”

  “I brought you your food, but you looked—well, you were pretty distracted.”

  “I’m sorry, Curtis. I got to thinking about something and lost myself there.” She looked at the plates before her. “This looks marvelous, thank you.”

  “Hope you like it.” Curtis turned, and walked away. “Hi, guys,” he said to a couple of sheriffs as they entered, “your table’s been waiting for you. What did you do with Amy?”

  “No need for her to walk us here. She sent us this way, and here we are.” They sat down two tables away from Sarah.

  “Well, Dad said—”

  “Don’t sweat it, Curtis. It’s okay.”

  “Alright. The same as usual?”

  “You got it.”

  Curtis walked away and moments later Amy brought two cups of coffee and placed them in front of the officers. “Here you go P&P. I’m gonna hear from Curtis about this, aren’t I?”

  “Hope not, darling. Send him to us if he gives you any grief.”

  She grinned and walked off.

  Sarah watched the exchange with interest. One of the officers noticed her staring and nodded. Sarah nodded back, and turned her eyes back to her food.

  She glanced at them furtively as she ate, while they were served breakfast, hoping they wouldn’t catch her watching them.

  Curtis came to pour her another cup of coffee as the men were finishing their eggs.

  “Are those officers from Lakeport?” she whispered.

  “Never asked. They’re regulars. P&P, we call ‘em, on account one is Patrick and the other is Peter.”

  “I wonder if you’d do me a favor. Would you mind asking them if it’s all right for me to ask them a question? I’m looking for a friend who does some consulting work with the
authorities.”

  “No, don’t mind at all. Hold on.” He walked over to them. “That lady there,” he looked in Sarah’s direction, “asked if you’d mind if she asked you a question. She’s looking for someone.”

  They both looked over at Sarah. She smiled apologetically.

  “I got this,” said Patrick as he stood up. “Thanks, Curtis.” He walked up to Sarah, both thumbs tucked into his belt, and dipped his head in greeting. “Ma’am. I’m Sheriff Patrick Terrence.”

  “Nice to meet you. I’m Sarah Thompson. Won’t you sit down?”

  They shook hands and the sheriff sat. “Curtis tells me you’re looking for someone?”

  “Yes,” Sarah leaned forward. “His name is James Horton and he consults with some of the local authorities. Have you heard of him?”

  “May I ask why you’re interested in finding this person?”

  “He’s my colleague.”

  “Colleague?”

  “We…sort of do the same work. Have you met him? I understand he’s in these parts, only I’m not sure exactly where.”

  “Have you tried to reach him?”

  “Yes, but he’s not answering his cell. He doesn’t like interruptions when he’s working.”

  “That should tell you something.”

  “You’re right, only it appears that what I’m looking into is related to what he’s looking into, and he’s not aware of it. I myself found out only recently.”

  Sheriff Terrence stared pensively at Sarah. “Let me talk with my partner.” He rose and returned to his table.

  Sarah sipped her coffee while the two officers spoke in muted tones.

  She took a deep breath, opened her purse and took out a card, resolutely stood, and went to their table. They started to stand. “No, please. I just came over to give you the telephone number of Sheriff Williams in Okanogan County. That’s in Washington State where I’m from. I’ve worked with him. If you’re concerned, please speak with him. He’ll vouch for me.” She handed the card to Patrick. “If you find James Horton, please inform him that I’m here—staying down the road at the Cozy Cabins—and that it’s important I speak with him as soon as possible.”

  “That’s good of you, Mrs. Thompson,” the sheriff said, “We certainly will follow up.”

  Sarah returned to her table and finished her breakfast.

  Moments later Curtis came over with more coffee. “Thanks, Curtis, but I’m done. The check please and extend my congratulations to your mother. Her pastries are outstanding.”

  “Sure thing.” He searched his bib pocket for the check and handed it to Sarah. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

  Sarah nodded. “Yes, I’m fine.” She opened her purse and took out her wallet. “Sometimes when I’m working on a problem I tend to concentrate so hard on it that I sort of detach. Thank you so much for your concern.” She handed him the check and money. “I don’t need any change.”

  Curtis took the money. “Thanks! Be sure to come back. We do great lunches, too.”

  “I most certainly will. Thank you, Curtis.”

  Sarah rose from the table and nodded goodbye to the officers.

  After exiting the restaurant, she made her way back to the Cozy Cabins and booked a room. Once settled in, she grabbed her phone, but even before turning it on static erupted from it. She set her phone on the table and reached for the hotel’s landline. It greeted her with static as well. “Damn it, Martha! I have to let my husband know where I am.”

  She left the cabin and made her way to the front office. “Hi Ann, it seems I have bad connections both on my cell and the phone in the room. Could you please place a call for me?”

  “Sure thing, Mrs. Thompson.” Ann lifted the receiver and immediately pulled it away from her ear.

  Sarah could hear the static from across the counter.

  “Sorry, the lines must be down. Hopefully they’ll be back up soon.”

  “Thanks for trying. “

  Sarah walked out of the office. “Martha, if you weren’t already dead, I’d…”

  Back in the cabin, exhaustion hit her. She fluffed the pillows and leaned back for some much-needed rest. But her frustration kept her tossing about, and soon it became obvious that sleep would be impossible. Moments later Sarah opened the book and read.

  NOT ALONE

  I find that

  When I’m all alone

  My thoughts run faster than my life

  If yesterday

  I was fifteen

  Today

  I’m sixty-five

  I spend a lifetime

  At your side

  Away from you

  And

  Back again

  Nights and days

  Of love

  And words

  And dreams

  Years and years

  Of life

  And stars

  And schemes

  The clock

  Has not gone

  Fifteen times

  Round and round its face

  When

  Fifteen years

  I’ve spent

  By you

  For you

  With you

  And when I know

  We’ll meet again

  I find I’m not alone

  Clarity

  A warm fire burned in Mary Ellen’s large stone fireplace. To one side an elaborate wrought-iron stand, shaped like a fleur-de-lis, held a set of iron fireplace tools. The pommels on the handles of the fire poker, tong, brush, and scoop were also shaped like a fleur-de-lis. Dry logs were neatly stacked on the far side of the fireplace.

  The living and dining areas, as well as a kitchen area, were all situated inside one vast room. Antique furniture gave it a hospitable, homey atmosphere, but it was evident that this old house had once been an elegant, well-appointed manor.

  “Sit by the fire, and warm yourself.” Mary Ellen set the shotgun on a rack next to the front door, which she closed and bolted.

  Karla walked toward the fireplace. Two large armchairs faced a rocking chair across a small coffee table. She stood next to one of the armchairs and turned to study her hostess.

  Mary Ellen shuffled over to the rocking chair and turned on a lamp perched on a side table. In the meager light from the lamp and the fireplace, she appeared more ancient than the furnishings in the house. It seemed impossible that her tiny, gnome-like frame had handled the heavy shotgun with such ease.

  “Why would anybody want to read about this place? Care for some soup?”

  “No, thank you. I just ate.”

  Mary Ellen sat on her rocking chair. Karla remained standing. “Sit. The armchair won’t bite.”

  Karla sat down and noticed the elegant upholstery. “This fabric is exquisite.”

  “Indeed.” Mary Ellen waved a hand to encompass the entire room. “All this is Martha’s doing. She always liked pretty things. Look around. She picked this stuff herself. Every last bit, except a handful of knickknacks I’ve added over the years.”

  “This was her home?”

  “No. This was her love.”

  Karla glanced around the cabin. “Every piece is quite handsome on its own. Not a single one is part of a set, yet they all fit together to perfection. That’s quite an achievement.”

  “You have a good eye, young lady.”

  “I write about art, among other things.” Mary Ellen studied her. Karla continued, “Visitors must love coming here. Your home makes one feel welcomed. Some of the knickknacks, as you call them, look European. Is that right?”

  Mary Ellen’s eyes wandered to the shelves and tabletops. “Yep. They bring back fond memories—mostly gifts from the girls. The others are from this part of the world.” She sighed.

  “I’m sorry. I don’t wis
h to make you sad.”

  Mary Ellen looked up, and Karla could almost spot the shadows of memories floating behind her life-worn eyes, before she turned toward the flickering flames. “Nobody comes here anymore. After the McKenzies left, they had no need to visit, no need to come all this way.”

  “Don’t they own land around here?”

  “They do. Lots of it. Rolling hills of vineyards off Highway 53 on Old State Highway. Oh, and also off of Lakeview Road. They have more, but I can’t remember where.”

  “You must’ve been well acquainted with them?”

  “I must’ve. That’s why you’re here.”

  “It is.”

  The old woman stared at Karla. “You’re fibbing me, young woman. I don’t like fibs. What are you really after?”

  “I’m trying to find out a few things.”

  “If you were a true reporter,” Mary Ellen said, with a sardonic smile, “you would’ve found out a little more about the McKenzie folk before you came here. Whom do you write for?”

  Uncomfortable with the lie, Karla turned toward the fire to avoid Mary Ellen’s glare. “I was given this assignment at the last moment this afternoon—I haven’t had time to prepare.”

  Mary Ellen stood, grabbed the fire poker, and expertly nudged the logs, causing a barrage of sparks to shoot up the chimney and the flames to burst back to life. “And what are you really interested in, the story of the town—or the McKenzies?”

  “Both, of course. But you’ve piqued my curiosity, so I’d rather learn more about the McKenzies. Are any of them still living in this area?”

  Mary Ellen ambled toward the kitchen. In a few steps she reached an ancient black cast-iron stove that stood against the wall. Decorative brass scrollwork around the door castings and handles adorned the range and oven doorframes. The stove sat on four ornate legs that protruded from a stunning brass skirt. Mary Ellen opened the door to a matching shelf above the range and took out a bowl. She set it to one side of the stove atop a sturdy redwood counter, then turned her attention to a steaming pot on top of one of the burners. She grabbed a ladle that sat in a spoon rest in the middle of the cooktop and stirred.