Summer Searcher

by M K Dymock

  He stuttered a bit at her direct tone. “Of course, sorry.” He led her into a living room that felt barren in its simplicity. “I should properly introduce myself. I’m Jim Healy.” He put out his hand, and she awkwardly shook it. Touching strangers was something she’d never adjusted to. “Can I get you a cup of coffee? It’s a French press.”

  She forced a smile, having a little idea of what he talked about but no experience. “Sounds great.” She took the opportunity of having him out of the room to examine the space.

  With a sudden start, she realized the original floor plan was an exact replica of her family’s home. Without trying, she could see herself and Link walking through the front door, her brother slamming it behind them. She would yell at him like she had on the very last day they’d walked into their home. Their mom would still be asleep for another hour after her night shift.

  Without realizing her feet moved, Jen walked to the edge of the living room and stared down the hallway.

  It took all her restraint not to call out to her mother; the answering silence would break her. Footsteps sounded on the tile, and she retreated to the couch.

  “Here you go.” Healy handed her a chipped mug labeled Butler’s Dock, and she had a vague recollection of going fishing with neighbors at a lake. Had he been there?

  As if reading her puzzled look, he said, “Our families and a few other neighbors took a couple of fishing trips together. Do you remember me taking you kids on a hike?”

  She thought for a moment. Her memories of the year before they’d left home had blurred in the trauma that came later. “Yes, we saw a snake.” A rare smiled crossed her face as she remembered her mother catching it, and, simultaneously, both freaking out and impressing all the kids. “And you taught us how to make a fire from scratch.”

  He nodded. “It was my kids’ first camping trip. And your mom was so excited to have a weekend away from work with you and your brother.”

  “You said I look like her?” She had no pictures of Charlotte, and she wondered every time she looked in the mirror which features of her mother’s looked out.

  “Yes, but with some of your father mixed in.”

  “You knew them well?” She took a sip and forced the hot liquid down, not noticing its flavor beyond coffee.

  “Back then the neighborhood was pretty tight. Everybody was always watching each other’s kids, and the parents socialized on the weekends.”

  “I’m sorry, I don’t remember you very well.”

  “My kids were younger than you and your brother, babies when everything happened. We’d only moved to the neighborhood about a year before.”

  “Sela told me you were helping my mom with some legal stuff.”

  “Why don’t we sit down.” He offered her a chair near a gas fireplace that kept the morning chill at bay. She focused on the comforting flames. Merrell had rarely allowed a fire, not wanting to draw attention to their location. She’d sworn if ever she had a home of her own, she’d have a fireplace going constantly.

  Before sitting, she examined the photos across the mantle. Several shots included Healy and a young man and woman in graduation gowns. No wife graced the photos. “My twins,” Jim said proudly. “They’re at Washington State in grad programs. They both took after me for some odd reason. My girl is in law school, and my son is in the ROTC. He’ll serve as an Army ranger for a few years like his old man.”

  “That’s nice.” Jen didn’t know the proper things to ask about college. She sat as close as she could to the fire. “I was hoping I could ask you some questions about my mom.”

  He sat on a couch across from her. “I suppose. You are next of kin.” A flash of questions crossed his face, none of which she intended to answer. The lawyer in him must’ve sensed that because he went with a softer touch. “What do you want to know?”

  Jen dived in headfirst. “Were they getting a divorce?”

  Healy’s eyes widened, and she wished she’d started with something easier. “They, uh . . .” He stood and walked around the room. “Charlotte was going to file for legal separation.”

  “You were helping her?”

  “With the paperwork, yes. I’m a family attorney.”

  “Did you know my father well?”

  “Not really. He didn’t come out to the neighborhood barbecues or camping. I wrote up their wills when I first moved here, but I mostly spoke with her. I tried to walk him through it before he signed, but he said it didn’t matter.”

  “Mr. Healy–”

  “Please, call me Jim.”

  She would ignore that request. Familiarity with him felt almost . . . disloyal. “So, you didn’t know him much?”

  Healy looked up as if trying to force a memory. “No, the only other interaction we had, he was quite brisk, almost rude. I asked a few people if I’d offended him, and they said that’s just how he was.”

  Jen had held that same conversation often over the years of her childhood. When she’d asked her mom about it, her mom only said her dad was shy around people.

  Time had almost erased the many times she’d been his go-between with people at parties or even delivery men at the door. When he became Merrell, she did the same thing for him on the few occasions they went into town. It was much easier to assume the change came with her mother’s death.

  “Did she want to get a divorce or not?” Jen was done dancing around painful subjects.

  “Yes,” he finally replied with equal bluntness.

  “Sela said she was considering it, but only as leverage for him to get help.”

  “That may have been the case for a time, but when she came to me, she was ready to draw up divorce papers.”

  “Because of his so-called mental problems?”

  He ignored her sarcasm. “Because his mental problems were getting worse, and he wasn’t willing to get help. Her plan was to ask for full custody until he sought treatment.”

  For a lot of years, it had been their father who got them ready for school, who made them their breakfast. He would not have been okay with that arrangement. “What did my dad say?”

  “She hadn’t told him yet, as far as I knew. She wanted all the paperwork done and a new home picked out to move to.”

  “When was all that going to be done?”

  “She signed a lease the week before she died.”

  “Do you think my father killed her?”

  A clock on the mantel ticked the time away. “Yes. Her leaving would’ve spiraled him out of control.”

  But he hadn’t been out of control. He’d been ready for her mother’s death.

  When her father had found them hiding in the culvert, he hadn’t taken them home or to the Tangs like she’d expected. Every question they asked resulted in a strained whisper from him to shut up.

  Link started to cry at his father’s unusually harsh tone. He picked Link up by his arms to where their noses almost touched. “You can’t say a word or they’ll find us.” He threw Link on his back and grabbed Jen’s arm, dragging her through the thick forest.

  They didn’t stop, not when she slipped and fell and not when the sirens echoed through the trees.

  At the edge of an unused dirt road they came upon a thick grove of overgrown pine. Her dad slipped through the branches, pulling her along. The needles scratched her face and Link’s; he cried out, but she didn’t. She knew what horrors lay behind them.

  On the other side of the pines stood an object the size of an elephant, covered with a canvas tarp.

  “Hold onto your brother,” her father commanded her. She grasped Link’s wiggly hand in hers so firmly he cried out in pain. David yanked on the edge of the canvas, pulling it off to reveal an old red and white Ram Charger.

  He opened the door and lifted them both in. The floor under the back seat was covered with a duffle bag and several sealed boxes. Their feet, at least hers, rested on stuff. The sirens grew louder.

  “Dad, aren’t they coming to help us?”

  He attempted to s
tart the engine, but it only resulted in a squealing sound. He turned to her. “Hylia, listen to me. No one is going to help us. They killed your mother, and they would’ve killed the rest of us.”

  Tears welled in her eyes. “Mom’s dead?” Her mind shut down, and she couldn’t process anything. “Who . . .?”

  “I’ll explain when we’re safe.” He started the engine, which finally rolled over. They bounced over a dirt road until he signaled to enter a highway a few miles from their house. Two cop cars passed them, lights blazing in the darkening sky.

  “Will we be safe?” she asked.

  He didn’t answer.

  How long had he been preparing to run? The Charger contained clothes, food, and even a few toys for the kids.

  Looking back, Jen couldn’t recall anything packed for her mom.

  26

  There was one thing Sol knew about finding a person—if you wanted to know where they were going, it helped to know where they came from.

  He returned to the sheriff’s office and read every story or file he could find about the Hayes family. The articles stopped after a year. Usually a story like that would get more attention, but with no family outside those who died, there was no one to keep it alive.

  The first articles called Charlotte’s Hayes’ death an apparent suicide, then a murder, then finally ruled suicide after several years. The police refused to speculate on David Hayes’ involvement and the reason he would supposedly murder his children.

  He scrolled through the articles from the initial crime and found the name of the investigating detective. Maybe he’d be willing to talk to a fellow officer.

  It took a few calls to track down the now-retired cop, but finally a phone rang to a chipper hello.

  “Detective Shea?” Sol asked

  “Not anymore. Who’s this?”

  Sol cut to the point as well and explained who he was. “We found some possible evidence we think might be tied to the Hayes’ case.” A stretch of the truth but not much.

  “Is that so?” The booming voice of before vanished, replaced with excitement. “What did you find? Any sign of the bodies?”

  “We’re still sorting through it all, and I can’t confirm until we know for sure. I was hoping to get an idea about the family.”

  “Got to be a lot of area in those mountains, what makes you tie it to the Hayes?”

  “Some personal items. Can I ask you a few questions about them?”

  “Of course. No one knows that case better than I do. I remember everything.”

  “Why’s that? Seems to me you would’ve handled a lot of cases over the years.”

  He cleared his throat. “Because I knew her.”

  Something about that rubbed Sol wrong. “You knew Hylia?”

  “Who? Oh, the daughter. No, I knew Charlotte. She was a doctor at the local emergency room. I first met her when I worked patrol. We’d haul people in to be stitched up and got to be friendly. Occasionally, she’d offer some advice on a case or sit with a victim while we talked to them.”

  “Must’ve been a difficult case to investigate.”

  “She didn’t deserve what happened to her,” he said with certainty.

  The one thing that bothered Sol more than anything as he read through the old reports was that they’d called the woman’s death a suicide. Why would David Hayes flee his home with his children over a suicide?

  “What made you think suicide?”

  “Look I’ve been asked that question a hundred times over the years—everybody’s absolutely sure the husband did it. All I can say is the evidence pointed to suicide. The gun was found in her hand, and she tested positive for gunshot residue. There were no indications of a struggle.”

  “Was she suicidal?” Sol sat down in Mina’s empty desk. She’d gone into town about an early bar fight.

  “Some friends and coworkers thought she’d been down. The nursing director found her crying a few times.”

  “You knew her. Were you surprised?”

  Shea hesitated for a moment. “You’re a cop. How many suicides have you been to where the loved ones weren’t surprised? Unless there are previous attempts or a history of drugs, it can catch a family off guard.”

  Sol had neither this man’s breadth or depth of experience. “I’m assuming when the husband fled, your focus changed.”

  “Of course, especially with the kids involved.”

  “What do you think happened?”

  “What I think doesn’t matter. Everyone involved is dead; whoever pulled that trigger went to the grave with the secret.”

  And if they didn’t? Sol thought to himself. “I’d still like to hear your best guess.”

  “I don’t know, but if I was a betting man, I’d say David Hayes murdered his wife to keep her from taking the children. Then, when the FBI closed in, he murdered the rest of the family to make sure no one would ever take them away. From everything I knew about him, he wasn’t a man to cede control. But what I thought and what I could prove, especially with the suspect being dead, didn’t matter.”

  “Tell me everything you know about him.”

  “He was smart, cunning even. You know Charlotte’s death wasn’t the first time he tried to take the kids.”

  Sol leaned forward in his chair to grab a notebook. “Where did he go?”

  “A few hours away, to a hotel. We found them fairly quickly. Charlotte called me to help. She didn’t have any proof he was a danger, and a parent is allowed to take his kids.” Shea’s voice grew quiet. “But the thing was, I think he expected to get caught. He kept asking me how we found him. He was curious, not disappointed. Whole thing seemed like a sham.”

  Sol kept writing as long as the man kept talking.

  “It wasn’t until later that I figured it out. That first time was a trial run to see how we found him and how quickly we did.”

  “How did the FBI eventually find him in the mountains? It took a few months.”

  “They never said anything beyond an anonymous tip. Someone saw him and the kids filling up at a gas station. We traced credit cards, bank statements, all of that. We found out he bought a car with cash a few months before and was sure that would lead us to him. But somehow it ended up in Salt Lake with no evidence he drove it there. Just a red herring to pull us off the scent.”

  “Sounds like it was luck somebody saw him.”

  “Dumb luck is more like it. It didn’t help us save those kids. Anyhow, we closed Charlotte’s death as a suicide because that’s what the evidence pointed to and there wasn’t anybody left to blame.” Shea’s tone came out tired and old. Sol suspected he still blamed himself, at least a little, despite his statement.

  “Thanks for your help. I’ll let you know what we learn—if anything.” Sol hung up and stared at his writing pad where he’d written SHAM in thick black letters. It seemed more and more likely David Hayes had fooled the police at least twice.

  27

  Jen sat alone in Jim’s office for privacy, staring at two boxes that contained everything left of her family. What she wanted to do was run through the woods until exhaustion took hold of her and she collapsed. At least maybe then she could outrun her thoughts.

  Then she thought about Link and the body in the cave.

  She opened the first box and stared at their last family photo. A rush of nausea ran through her, and she sat on the small couch with her knees pulled up. Run! Every instinct in her screamed the command. To where? To whom?

  She did what she always did and pushed the past away. All that mattered was here and now and Link and the child.

  She pulled out the first of two boxes. Jim had said he’d sold off anything of value and stocked it away in an account—including the funds from selling the house. “There wasn’t much money left by the time we paid off all the debts. Sela hasn’t touched it, so what’s there is yours.”

  Jen didn’t respond. She didn’t know how to. Money had never been something she worried about until she grew hungry enough to car
e. Once she had a burger in her, those concerns faded.

  She opened the first box but quickly closed it when she saw it contained nothing but photos. That was a dark hole she would not excavate that day. She went to the second and found her father’s books. She thumbed through each one, finding nothing of note until she got to the bottom.

  Tears pushed at her eyelids as she spotted the small, worn paperback at the bottom, The Crystal Trap, a book based on the video game The Legend of Zelda. From the time she and Link were old enough to hold a game controller, her dad would play it with them. He’d wanted to name her Zelda, but her mother refused. Instead he’d suggested Hylia and told Charlotte it meant goddess. She’d liked it well enough. It wasn’t until Hylia was a toddler that Charlotte realized that her daughter’s namesake was a place in the game.

  Her father, not a religious man in any way, told her the Hylians were capable of hearing messages from their god.

  When in the hospital after giving birth to Link, Charlotte used her connections to make sure David never saw the birth certificate. Link’s legal name was Michael, but David, who was home with the children, always called him Link. Charlotte relented when he told her it was only fitting, as he was the last link they needed to form their family.

  She picked it up and thumbed through its earmarked pages. Link’s scribbles and her own drawings littered the blank pages. She sank to the carpet with shaking hands. She could picture those children so clearly. How had everything gone wrong?

  Each page brought a new notation in the margins and a new ache in her heart. She stopped at a chapter with her father’s handwriting scribbled in the margins. To anyone else it would’ve looked like gibberish, but she recognized what he called the language of the miners. She’d learned a few years ago it was Welsh. Many of the miners came from the old country, but their mother tongue had mostly disappeared by the next generation.

  No one around could still speak it, but even that wasn’t enough for Merrell and his need for secrecy. He added his own twist to it to ensure only three people in the world could decipher his notes.