by J. P. Oliver
There was, in fact, a coffee shop nearby, a short, beautiful walk from town hall, and we holed up there, Anthony generously covering the tab and talking all things North Creek: the Savages and Crosses, the bootlegging, the murders. The society members were impressed to be speaking to direct descendants of Martha Cross, but were even more impressed when Zach pulled out the most important piece of history we had: Martha Cross’s journal.
“This is really it?” Anthony asked.
“That’s right,” Zach said, arms folding proudly on the table as Alice pulled out disposable gloves for all of them. “We’ve kept it in the family all this time. My mother was the one to find all the entries about Rocco, though. Or, I guess, Ricky.”
“That’s exceptional,” Jennifer mused. She squeaked softly as Zach went to set the book on the table, among the coffee mugs and glasses of water. “Please be careful.”
“They’ve been careful with it,” Alice chuckled. “Clearly. Where were you keeping the diary all this time? It’s in fantastic shape for having been written in the twenties.”
The three of us exchanged knowing smiles.
“A milk crate in my parents’ basement,” Zach said.
They were floored by that fact but couldn’t really complain; it was in one piece, after all. They took turns reading passages out loud, catching little things that marveled them, and Anthony asked if it would be possible to photocopy pieces, which neither Anthony or Zach seemed to have an issue with.
At one point, Alice turned to Zach with a smile on her face that betrayed her excitement; whatever was happening here was clearly something important.
“This is quite a special town you’ve got here.”
He laughed, rubbing the back of his neck. “Don’t I know it.”
We exchanged a look across the table, small and glimmering, and I hoped he really did know it; maybe it would keep him from leaving it all behind again.
When we came back to town hall, it was with high spirits. They were interested and confident that there was chance for historical status. A lot happened in North Creek, small as it was. And with a single phone call to good old Aunt Judy—a member of the Savage side of the family, who worked as a county judge—Anthony was delivering a fresh-off-the-fax-machine warrant to us, announcing it was, “Granting express permission to search those two-hundred acres for Rocco’s remains.”
The historical society members, regaled enough for one afternoon, retired to their rooms at the North Creek Hotel, but our work was far from over.
With the warrant ready to be executed, Anthony went back to his office to make another phone call and received word that an FBI agent was being sent out this way from the Memphis Field Office that very day, due to the time-sensitive nature of the case.
Plus, I’m sure that solving a decades-old case surrounding a famous gangster and spree killer was good incentive for them to get out here quick.
In record time, we were in town hall again, waiting for him to show. But, when we got back, Anthony wasn’t alone. The agent was there with him, and so was Edward Morris.
His arms were crossed, the tie of his cheap suit askew, as if he’d dressed up in a hurry, and his face was set in a scowl. Definitely not happy.
The agent stepped forward, greeting us with firm handshakes.
“Charles Whit,” he introduced.
“Zach Savage.”
“Curtis Walker.”
“Dr. Walker,” Zach amended with a small, proud smile.
“Nice to meet y’all.” He had a thick Louisiana drawl, and was exactly what you’d expect from the FBI: built to handle any physical challenge, cropped blond hair, sunglasses, and a professional attitude. Black suit, classically.
“Thanks for coming on such short notice,” Anthony said.
“Of course. Talk of North Creek’s been pushing around the office lately in Memphis. I was happy to come on down.” He shrugged. “Take a look for myself.”
“Talk?” I asked.
“Lotta rumors,” Charles said, smirking.
“Well, hopefully we can get to the bottom of it all,” Zach said.
“Me, too. Rocco Carlino’s high-profile. It’d be nice to close him for good.”
“If he’s actually there,” Edward snapped, trying and failing to not be too pissy. Unhelpfully, he added, “Not to burst everyone’s bubble, but this is a serious matter. Our company has a schedule to adhere to with that property, and it’d be a gross waste of time, money, and resources if you were to dig it up over a useless rumor.”
Charles hummed, thinking. “You’ve got your warrant?”
“We do,” Anthony said, passing him a copy.
Edward twitched. “It’s family issued.”
“Judge Savage has no horse in this game,” I pointed out. “She doesn’t even live in North Creek.”
“Her family does,” Edward said.
Charles nodded, folding and passing it back. “It’s a legal warrant. But Morris isn’t completely off. We’ll need more proof before we start digging.”
Morris grinned, twisted and snaggled.
“Which is why I’ve sent a team ahead to survey the land myself,” Charles said, hiding his small grin as he sipped at his coffee mug.
“I’ve got proof,” Anthony said.
We all looked to him, questioningly.
With a smile, he nodded for us to follow to his office, explaining along the way, “I decided to do a little digging, once we began contacting everyone. The records from back then are somewhat shoddy, but I had a thought. No matter what time period it is, people want money.”
He looked pointedly at Edward before unlocking a drawer in his desk.
“Rocco didn’t own property in North Creek. We know from my grandmother’s journal—Martha’s journal, that is—that he rented a place here. He was a drifter. An outsider in North Creek. There would be agreements. A rental agreement, specifically, to be sure he paid up.”
The period at the end of his sentence, Anthony tossed a sheet of old, yellowed paper down onto his desk, wrapped carefully in a protective plastic sheet.
Edward paled.
There, in fine print, was a rental agreement from 1925, signed and dated by Rocco’s alias, Ricky Car.
“That isn’t his name,” Edward said, grabbing for straws.
“No,” Zach said. “But we know he’s used that alias before. It was definitely him.”
Charles took the sheet in his hand, surveying it. Slowly, his features began to brighten. This case was getting close to closed, and he was going to be the one to do it.
I glanced at Zach, who met my gaze and winked.
It was a good sign; maybe even good enough to halt development completely.
“I hope the house is still there,” I said, squinting out at the land.
Zach parked the car on the side of the road, a large shoulder of dirt that sat at the edge of a clearing. It was only a piece of the property Edward’s company was trying to tear up, but boy, was it a beauty. Lush green grass, plenty of trees peppering the shallow hills. It was the type of place you didn’t really look twice at when you passed it, which was probably why Isaac Savage decided to bury Rocco out this way.
“We’ll be lucky,” Anthony said, crawling out of the backseat, “if we can find the body.”
Ours wasn’t the only car there. Edward had come in his own, as had Charles, and there were two vans there as well for the survey team. As we stood on the edge of the grass, I watched as Edward watched them from his car, like a vulture waiting to snap at something.
“How long do you think it’ll take to find him?” Zach asked.
Charles pushed his sunglasses out of his face. “Hopefully not too long, if we’re lucky. It’s a big plot of land, even with the estimations from the journal. Could take days. Maybe months even to comb all this, if it’s even here.”
Zach nodded, and then turned to me.
“We don’t have to wait around for this,” he said. “Uncle Anthony, you’ll—”
I shared a knowing smile with Zach, who looked just as eager to leave. This was all exciting, but so was just being together. That sure sounded like it beat standing and waiting in the hot Tennessee sun.
We loaded into my car and peeled away, waving to Uncle Anthony until he was turning to Charles to ask a dozen questions.
Zach took my hand in his. “So.”
“So,” I repeated, laughing a little. “A whole afternoon to ourselves. What do you want to do?”
We thought for a moment in mutual silence.
Zach broke it with a small laugh.
“What?”
“Nothing. It’s dumb.”
“What?” I asked, shaking his arm. “Tell me.”
“I was gonna say—we could go horseback riding.”
My gaze flickered over to him, surprised. “Really?”
“Yeah. My folks still have their horses in the stable and everything. They’re in good shape. Probably don’t get ridden as much as they used to, but—”
“Yes,” I answered quickly. “That. We’re doing that.”
Horseback riding had a special place in my heart.
It was something we used to do as young teens on Zach’s family’s property. They owned a small stable with a couple of horses—nothing fancy; it was mostly just for the kids, who all had an interest and helped take care of them. Whenever I’d come over in high school, I always insisted on riding them, so Zach and I had a lot of hours under our belts.
As I petted the familiar mane of a dappled Icelandic named Blackbird, I took in the familiar scents and sights. I hadn’t been back here in ten years, but now, smelling the hay and horsehair and wood of the structure, it was like I was transported back to a simpler time. We saddled her and Zach’s horse, a deep brown thoroughbred named Wiles, equipped with a picnic blanket, and prepared prepare to ride out.
I felt light and excited, and I was reminded of the plans we made back then, too: to buy a farm for ourselves and raise and train horses just like these.
I looked at Zach as he mounted Wiles, smiling and feeling the full weight of my heart in my chest. All those plans, and he’d gone off to become a soldier, while I became a doctor. I guess you never really know where life will take you when you’re that young.
Diverting from the main trail, we took the self-made, hidden trails from when we were teens where they went down through the rock-pecked trails slowly, until we broke into a major clearing full of tall grass. For a minute, we just lingered there, watching the sky turn pink at its edges.
Zach was looking at me when I turned to him.
He looked—perfect. All relaxed and built muscle. I could imagine touching his arms through his T-shirt sleeves, or pushing my hand under to feel the sensitive skin of his stomach.
He didn’t look so miserable anymore, and I dared to hope it was because he was back here in North Creek, where he belonged—where we could be together.
“I’ll race you,” I teased.
He huffed a laugh, scratching Wiles’s mane. “You hear that?” he asked him. “He wants to race. Someone’s forgotten just how quick you are.”
“I don’t know,” I drew. “I seem to remember beating you more than once with Blackbird.”
“She was much younger then. We literally just got her we were seniors.”
“What’s wrong? You two chicken?”
He quirked a brow. “Guess there’s only one way to find out for sure then.”
Mischief bubbled in my chest. Like a band snapping, the tension broke between us and we each snapped the reins just enough to get the horses going. They broke into a trot, and then into a sprint, galloping hard and loud across the grass.
Blackbird bucked under my thighs with each step, and I lifted my backside off of her saddle, like jockeys sometimes did. The rush of wind against my face, in my hair, was cool and clean. I let out a bellowing laugh as we caught Zach at his tail and passed with a smug smile. How long had it been since I’d had fun like this?
The tall, untamed trees rushed overhead and all around, their spring green canopy crowding above us as Zach shouted something at me—but I couldn’t hear it over the noise. Blackbird and I made it to the other edge of the clearing, a beaten trail of grass and buttercup behind us. I cast a look over my shoulder just in time to see Zach and Wiles finish.
He was flushed and happy; smiling. I wished we were a little closer so I could lean across and kiss him like this.
“Told you,” I finally huffed, grinning like an idiot.
Zach shook his head. “Wiles and I have had a long day.”
“Mmhm. That’s it.”
He shot me a look, nodding towards the tree line. “I think the creek’s just around there. They could use a drink and I could use a second.” He patted his bad leg.
I nodded, clicking my tongue to get Blackbird going again. “And my ass could use a break after that ride.”
Zach laughed quietly, trotting after us. “That’s what she said.”
“Shut up.”
We led the horses to the creek a couple yards into the woods. The water split the tree line gently but the trees were still thick enough to provide a sense of privacy. Out here, it felt like we could be worlds away, like we were far into the Great Smoky Mountains, in a place only we knew. The grass was lush and bowed gently to the moss that crept up from the babbling stream, clear and throwing off a coolness complemented by the shade.
“You can let go of her,” Zach said, dismounting and releasing Wiles’s reins. “They’re well-behaved, remember? They won’t go far.”
With a nod, I let her go. Both paced a few feet away to drink from the water and then collapsed with sighs, happy to take a break in such a pretty place. With a groan, I found a nice patch of dry moss and laid the blanket down and threw myself down onto it. Zach laughed quietly, sitting much more carefully at my side.
I took it all in: the silence, the exertion, the joy, the bright early twilight above us, the trees and the flowing water. All around us, there were little bursts of white flowers, smaller than my pinky, all throughout grass and moss. Already, I could see the moon through the trees, even though it was still daylight, golden hour flushing through cracks in the leaves on the other side of the horizon. I shut my eyes and sighed happily.
“This is like paradise.”
Zach hummed. I felt him stretch out beside me, our arms brushing. “I know.”
“I don’t want to leave. Ever.” I wrinkled my nose, looking up at him. “Is that stupid?”
“No. Definitely not.”
“Good.”
We looked each other up and down, unafraid to hold each other’s gaze. It was just this shy of perfectly comfortable, like we’d never really been apart. Lost time was gained in a matter of days, weeks.
“How’s your leg?”
Zach looked down at it, shrugging. “Achy, but... that’s nothing new. I’m not used to riding horseback anymore, that’s for sure. So, is this a date?”
“You tell me,” I hummed. “This was your idea.”
Zach thought about it a moment, nodding. “It’d be nice if this was a date. I haven’t been on one of those in a long time.”
“How long?”
“Probably, like…four years?”
“Wow,” I said, as if I hadn’t been dateless for even longer.
“Yeah. When I moved out to Virginia, I tried to find someone. It could have been anyone but dating around like that…” He shook his head. “I wasn’t into it. Hookups were easier. I didn’t have to try to get them to like me or let them... in, or vice versa. It was just easier—”
“Yeah. I understand.”
“Yeah?”
“Mmhm.” I lifted my head and kissed him sweetly. “Like that, for instance. If I wanted to do that to anyone else, I’d have to buy them dinner first.”
&nbs
p; Zach laughed against my mouth. “Oh, so you just like that I’m a cheap date?”
“Yes, very much—mm….”
I was cut off by his mouth on mine. Kissing him made me feel so young and alive. I felt those butterflies; I hadn’t felt them in years, with all the duds I’d gone on dates with, hoping it’d be half as good as this only to end up disappointed.
It was just innocent making out, until his hand threaded into my hair—my weak point—and gave the curls a little tug.
I nipped his bottom lip lightly, admonishing. “If you keep that up, I’m gonna have to go back to your parents’ place with a very embarrassing problem.”
Arousal flickered in his blue eyes, playful.
“You’ll just have to get rid of it before we go back then,” he said, scraping his nails up the nape of my neck, watching me shiver.
“It’ll be your fault.”
“Guess I’ll have to take responsibility, then.”
We looked at one another before laughing. I groaned at how cheesy we were, collapsing my weight against him. It was enough to put him on his back, the both of us lying in a messy heap on the moss.
“You really wanna fool around out here?” I asked, chin propped on his chest.
Zach shrugged.
“Was this morning not enough?”
“Shut it,” he laughed, slapping my ass, loose and playful.
“Ooh,” I hummed, kissing his chest through his shirt. “More of that, please.”
“Twisted.”
“You know me.”
Zach sighed and it sounded happy. Actually happy. It made my heart go crazy, fluttering helplessly because I was still in love with him, so truly, so deeply, and all this—this time alone together and the wandering hands and how easily we could just exist next to one another—was just reaffirming that.
I lifted my head again to kiss him, a sweet little peck. “You went down on me this morning.”
“Yes?” he said, brow raising.
I smiled at him mischievously.
“What? Out here?”
“Sure. It’ll be just like when we were in high school.”