Illusive Witness

by S. Y. Thompson

  RUTH HEADED FOR the Marlin once the ferry departed from view. She decided to sail back to Ghost Island rather than use the engines. It was such a beautiful day that she wanted to immerse herself in the scents of salt and sea, not diesel fuel. While happy with her decision, she felt sore from her previous day’s activities and sailing proved more of a chore than she expected. She thought it would be prudent not to push too hard today. Plans modified by necessity, Ruth chose to restrict herself to nothing more strenuous than preparing their gear for tomorrow’s fishing trip.

  Deep-sea fishing usually ensured a relaxing day of sitting on the dock or in a charter boat and sipping a cold drink unless the fisher actually hooked something. At that point, the excursion could lead to hours of fighting a two-hundred pound monster. Ruth intended to prepare fully for that possibility by resting her body today.

  Thoughts of Jordan streaked across her mind and Ruth felt a thrill of arousal. There was more than one reason for her aching muscles. With any luck, there would be many more nights passed so sweetly. Jordan had proved a passionate lover, intensely fierce and yet teasingly gentle. Ruth found the contrast extremely enticing and had the good sense to know she was completely lost.

  The proximity of the island brought her back to reality. As she neared the dock, Ruth realized that Jordan had never told her why the island had such an unusual moniker. Perhaps it had something to do with the eerie mist that tended to roll in heavily at dusk and dawn. The first few times Ruth experienced the phenomena, she found it disconcerting.

  She crossed the warning markers just as a cloud drifted over the sun. The unexpected shadows made Ruth glance overhead at the gathering storm clouds beginning to roll in. She wondered idly if the rain would increase the fog. Ruth didn’t really care. She found the mist somehow calming. The thick air made her feel embraced, isolated and protected. She had the sensation that it screened her from prying eyes. Not that there were many of those aboard the island, she had to concede.

  Ruth thought the rain would probably die out overnight. Storms rarely lasted long in California, and it shouldn’t delay the planned fishing trip. Lost in quiet contemplation, she pulled into the dock and tied off the boat. Her stomach hadn’t awakened yet this morning, but a pot of coffee would be just the thing against the gathering chill induced by the growing shadows.

  She had spotted a thermos in one of the cupboards last night. It would be nice to sip at a hot drink while she worked on rods, reels, lures and gaffs.

  Ruth’s boat shoes left wedges in the sand as she walked across the beach and into the trees. She headed directly toward the cabin a short distance away. She didn’t linger inside the cabin, preferring to spend as much time aboard the yacht as she could before the storm broke. As soon as her thermos was full, Ruth headed back to the beach. She stopped long enough to borrow Jordan’s straw hat, jamming it down on her head to keep the sun from her too-white skin.

  The trees seemed quieter than they had a few minutes ago. Birds had ceased to sing and she thought it likely they were busy finding a roost before the rain started. Unconcerned, Ruth grabbed at the hat as a gust of wind sailed past. She settled onto the Marlin’s deck in the partial shade and opened the thermos.

  Ruth opened one of the storage cabinets and pulled out the gear. A particularly strong-looking rod assembly caught her eye. Ruth liked the black and yellow colors so she settled to work on that piece first. She wasn’t sure how degraded or worn the fishing line was on the reel so she took the mechanism apart. Ruth discarded the now-tangled mass and wound fresh line onto the reel. She repeated the process for three more fishing poles. With that self-assigned task complete, Ruth wiped down the rods and started in on the gaffs. Rust had started to form on the tips, spurred along by the salt water. She lost all track of time until her cell phone rang. Ruth hesitated to interrupt her work until she recognized Jordan’s number on the caller display.

  “Hello?”

  “Hi,” Jordan responded quickly. She sounded quite happy. “I hope I’m not disturbing you. I just wanted to hear your voice.”

  “Are you kidding? I’m delighted that you called. I missed you.” Ruth realized how much she had unintentionally disclosed. Fortunately, Jordan either didn’t notice or simply choose not to comment.

  “What are you doing to pass the time?”

  “Soaking up the sun and getting our equipment ready for tomorrow.” She hoped Jordan was as eager for the trip as she was. “What’s going on there? Did anything exciting happen since yesterday?”

  “As a matter of fact, you’re not going to believe my news. Ozzie Blaine, that’s the security chief for the hospital, told me that Doctor Fuller was arrested.”

  Ruth felt stunned by the news. She didn’t really care for Mark, but that didn’t mean he was a bad guy. “Really, what for?”

  “After I left yesterday, Ozzie looked back through the security tapes. Of course, we had already seen someone breaking into the drug cabinets, but couldn’t see who it was. Ozzie reported the incident to the police, turned over the tapes and told them our suspicions. They printed the cabinets and found prints, Doctor Fuller’s.”

  “But Jordan, he works there. Wouldn’t his prints be all over the hospital?”

  “Yes, but after the cleaning crew left last night no one else entered the room. Ozzie said the crew wiped down everything including those locked containers. The police found only one set of fingerprints. You can guess who they belonged to.”

  “I’ll admit, it’s not hard to follow the trail,” Ruth allowed. “Whoever’s prints were on the cabinet is the only possible suspect.”

  “I guess he didn’t think about that.”

  “What about the drugs in Nurse Flanagan’s locker? She’s still going to have to explain that to the review board.”

  “Nope,” Jordan said, slightly breathless in her excitement. “The police found Fuller’s prints there, too, and he has no reason to tamper with personal lockers. Anyway, Ozzie said that he has a friend on the force. That person told him that with the prints, they had enough probable cause for a search warrant.”

  “They actually searched his house? What did they find?”

  “A truckload of drugs, apparently in the house and his car. They also found a couple of packed suitcases. It looks like Doctor Fuller had planned to take a long trip. Needless to say, with all the evidence piling up against him, Fuller confessed to everything including setting up Trisha Flanagan to take the fall.”

  Ruth felt conflicted by the news. On one front, she was relieved for Trisha, but she was disappointed to discover that Mark was a criminal. All her plans for the Karl Stein Foundation had just flown out the window. “Is there any word on when Nurse Flanagan will be reinstated?”

  “She already has. Trisha popped her head in here a few minutes ago to say hi. She’s back on the job. Apparently, the review board delivered the news as soon as they found out about Fuller.”

  “They were probably afraid she’d sue,” Ruth teased.

  “Maybe. Anyway, it was a perfect way to start the day. I’m relieved that this dreadful mess has finally been resolved.”

  “That is wonderful news. It just proves how dead on your instincts really are.”

  “Yes, well, I don’t like to brag,” Jordan teased. “Still, I feel like things couldn’t possibly get any better.”

  “I disagree. I seem to remember things being pretty amazing last night.”

  For a moment, Jordan didn’t respond. Ruth wondered if she had gone too far with her flirtatious banter.

  “I’ve had difficulty thinking about anything else,” Jordan finally said. “I can’t wait until tomorrow. More precisely, I can’t wait until after the fishing trip.”

  Ruth started to come back with another saucy remark when she heard a commotion from Jordan’s end. It sounded like an argument had broken out. She worried until Jordan came back on the line.

  “I’m sorry, Ruth, but I have to go. One of my patients is strenuously insisting that he is ready for di
scharge. I’m afraid I don’t agree with his diagnosis.”

  “Sound like any other patients you’ve had in the recent past?”

  “Yes, but this one can at least be reasoned with.”

  “Hey!” Ruth and Jordan shared a pleasant laugh before Ruth finally relented. “All right, I’ll let you go. I look forward to seeing you tomorrow.”

  “I just wish it could be sooner.”

  Jordan’s parting words warmed Ruth’s heart. She returned to her work, preoccupied with the business side of their conversation. Ruth thought about Mark’s arrest. She had to admit to feeling anxious and disappointed. That reaction stemmed from the fact that Mark was a doctor and had a duty to help people. Instead, he’d helped himself by confiscating all the narcotics he could get his hands on. The cause of her anxiety proved harder to pin down. Finally, she had to conclude that her feelings had to do with Karl and again she concluded that the foundation in his honor would never be.

  Suddenly she wondered, why. Surely, Ruth could see to it that something was set up in Karl’s name. She didn’t need Mark for that. With Karl on her mind, Ruth’s thoughts wandered again to that day on the cliff. Her vision misted with unshed tears over the loss of her friend.

  Usually when she thought of that day, Ruth felt fear for what had occurred on the cliff and sorrow at Karl’s death. This time, she experienced fury, white and hot singing through her veins. Karl’s killer was never caught and there were so many unanswered questions. Why Karl? What could he have possibly done to enrage someone enough to kill him?

  Ruth didn’t believe in a random convergence of events. There was no way they just happened to be on a cliff while a madman roamed the area looking for a convenient target. No way could she entertain the idea that someone got a thrill from pushing a complete stranger into thin air. Someone had deliberately followed them to the spot. They had planned to kill Karl and attempted to take Ruth out of the picture as well. She didn’t know why, but no one had tried to hurt her since.

  As much as she longed to regain the memories lost from a head injury during the fall, Ruth realized it was probably for the better. With her mind a void concerning those events, she wasn’t a threat to the killer. Ruth was better off if she never remembered. Now, she had to move on with her life. She could take the first step by seeing where things were headed with Jordan and honoring Karl’s memory. She would set up the trust herself and get on with the business of living instead of focusing on death and loss. Having Jordan there was a clear incentive.

  Ruth’s stomach rumbled, reminding her of a missed lunch. Fat, heavy raindrops added to the moment and convinced her it was time to go. Ruth stowed the gear and locked down the storage compartment. It was only early evening, but the clouds made it seem much later. Her sole diet of coffee left her feeling slightly nauseated and Ruth decided it was time for something more solid.

  After a quick shower to rinse away old fish goo, Ruth headed for the kitchen. She enjoyed a quiet dinner of leftover pasta and even managed to cook some frozen garlic bread she discovered in the freezer. Ruth savored the crusty bread, noting that she hadn’t burned the edges too badly. Wine with the dinner helped her to relax.

  Ruth finished her meal and cleaned up before curling up with the novel in Jordan’s easy chair. A fire raged in the hearth. The setting was nearly perfect. As dusk began to gather, the storm broke with gusto. With it came an unexpected high wind that startled Ruth enough to set the book on her knee. She glanced around the room, listening to the wind as it rattled windows in their casings. She noticed movement from the corner of her eye and glanced sharply to the left. A large mirror hung on the wall opposite a window. Ruth could have sworn that she saw something move other than natural things blown about by the wind.

  She placed the book on the corner table. The wind abated slightly as she stood and walked around the room. She nervously checked all of the windows, but couldn’t see anything except windblown trees and gathering gloom. Her thigh throbbed from the sudden barometric change, but she gritted her teeth and climbed the stairs to the second floor.

  Ruth hoped she could get a better view of the area around the cabin from the second floor. She looked out the office window and saw a large man in a dark, saturated coat. He stood near the edge of the woods, looking around as though confused. Ruth thought he must be one of the island residents. Very likely, he had lost power or something and needed help. As she watched, rain pummeled him. His hair plastered to his skull as the wind whipped his jacket about. Ruth couldn’t imagine why anyone would be out in this storm unless it was an emergency.

  Suddenly, he looked up and their eyes made contact. Ruth felt as if she’d just grabbed onto a live electrical wire when she recognized the crazy man from the ferry. His face hardened into a mask of anger and determination as he started for the cabin. From his stalking pace and clenched fists, Ruth had no doubts about his less than innocent intentions. Her instincts screamed that this was the mysterious killer from the cliff. If she didn’t move right now, he would succeed in finishing what he started a few months before.

  Ruth frantically reached for the phone on the desk. Her intentions to dial 911 died away before her hand ever made contact with the handset. Even if she could call the police, they would never reach the island in time. She was wasting precious moments by even making the attempt.

  All of the doors and windows were locked, but Ruth knew they were only a momentary deterrent. If the intruder wanted in, he would simply smash a window or break down the door. She needed a weapon, but Jordan didn’t own a firearm. The best Ruth could do was her cane. She thought of the fireplace poker or a knife from the kitchen, but all of those tools were downstairs.

  Ruth spun around and hustled down the stairs as quickly as she could. She grabbed her cane from beside the front door, but didn’t know what to do next. A glass shattered in the laundry room to the left, making Ruth’s decision for her. She sprinted into the living room where she’d been reading and plucked her cell phone from the end table. The poker was beside the fireplace, too far away. She ran into the kitchen. Ruth grabbed a large chopping knife from the butcher block.

  “Where are you, Ruth? You might as well give up now and I’ll make it quick. Let’s just get this over with.”

  Ruth cowered against the cabinetry, her eyes widened with fear and shock at the familiar voice. Her mind must be playing tricks on her. It couldn’t be him. Overwhelmed with fear and nausea, Ruth sank to the floor. Her back rested against the pantry door. What possible motive could a trusted friend and employee have for any of this? Worse, she never had any clue Henry was capable of such a thing. Ruth couldn’t fathom what possible motive he would have to kill her. More than that, why hadn’t he made a move before now?

  An occasional bang helped her identify Henry moving around the cabin as he searched for her. The kitchen was small, but not easily viewed unless someone stepped inside of it completely. Ruth hoped he would just glance into the room over the top of the counter area and not see her in the corner. She really didn’t want to leave the house and run out into the storm. Unfortunately, the alternative was death or the need to take someone’s life.

  Something fell over and broke in the bathroom. Ruth remembered her cell phone, but couldn’t think of anyone to call that could help her. Then she thought of Jordan. She needed to hear her voice once more, even if only to say goodbye. She dialed the number and waited desperately for Jordan to answer. The phone rang four times and Ruth expected the call to go to voicemail.

  “Hello?”

  Ruth worried about responding, concerned that Henry would hear her speak. She could hear him moving closer. Ruth finally broke down and shouted into the phone when Henry strolled into the kitchen.

  “Help, Jordan, he’s going to kill me!”

  Chapter Eight

  STORM CLOUDS HAD started to gather as Ruth walked away from the beach. Henry heard her leave and popped up from the hold. He carefully raised only his head, comfortable that the gunwale would block
him from sight. Bits of food and dirt spotted the dingy brown coat. It hung limply from his large frame. He had climbed aboard while Ruth purchased a cup of coffee at the ferry.

  Henry had already tested his disguise, deliberately bumping into Ruth and Jordan to see if they would recognize him. He hadn’t expected the physician to react. She’d never seen him except from a distance. When she had, he was dressed in his chauffer’s uniform and respectfully holding the car door for his employer. As for Ruth, she never realized the identity of the homeless man on the pier. With Ruth alone on the vessel, Henry safely stowed away below deck.

  He glanced at the sky, pleased with the storm rolling in. The smell of ozone thickened the air. The rain hadn’t started in earnest yet, but if the storm did worsen, it would provide the cover he needed. Henry climbed out of the hold slowly, keeping Ruth in his sights until she disappeared into the trees. He followed from a distance, arriving at the cabin seconds after she vanished inside.

  Henry found a concealed spot and waited patiently until she reemerged. For the rest of the day, Henry watched her from a distance. He listened to the conversation between her and Jordan, disapproving of their unnatural relationship. After several hours of watching her clean fishing gear, he retreated toward the cabin. Henry felt sure that now would be the perfect time to find something to eat. With Ruth occupied on the boat, she would never know he’d been in and out of the house.

  This wasn’t the first time Henry had been inside the cabin. As he had before, Henry made a sandwich. He carefully cleaned up the mess, ensuring everything went back into the right place. Then he walked through the house, re-familiarizing himself with the layout of the premises.

  He coasted to a stop in front of the master bedroom window, staring out at the bay to where Ruth sat on the boat. Since driving up the coast three days ago, he found his thoughts wandered freely, almost beyond his control. He wasn’t able to concentrate on anything for more than five minutes at a time. His mind jumped from subject to subject like a room full of cats jumping across the furniture.