By the time Shadow and I made it home, the sky had just begun to lighten. I made a cup of coffee and went out onto the deck. My heart was heavy with the responsibility I felt toward Naomi, combined with the realization that I had no idea how to help her. I could tell Woody what I’d found out and he could follow up. If either Naomi’s mother or Mr. Kline confessed to their part in Naomi’s death, at least that part of the situation would be resolved, although it seemed for Naomi to really move on she needed Jeffrey Kline to follow through with his promise and return to the grave where he’d left the troubled young girl who had placed all her happiness at his feet.

  “You’re up early,” Mac said as she sat down beside me.

  “I never went to bed,” I answered. “Or at least I never went to sleep. I tried to go to bed, but I couldn’t sleep.”

  “Naomi?”

  I nodded. “I went to see her.”

  “And…?”

  “It was her mother who killed her. Not intentionally. At least, I don’t think it was intentional. She pushed Naomi, which made her fall and hit her head.”

  Mac frowned. “How sad.”

  “Actually,” I sighed, “what’s really sad is that it was Mr. Kline who buried her. He promised to come back to visit. It’s Mr. Kline she’s waiting for. If he doesn’t come, she won’t move on.”

  “What are you going to do?”

  I closed my eyes and let out a heartfelt sigh as fatigue and helplessness gripped my body. “I have no idea.”

  Mac and I sat quietly as the enormity of the situation weighed on our minds. The sun began its brilliant ascent into the sky, but I didn’t even notice. My responsibility to Naomi couldn’t be fulfilled until I enabled her to move on; despite the seeming impossibility, I had to find a way. I supposed the first thing I should do was share what I knew with Woody. I didn’t have any proof to give him, of course, other than my word that a ghost had told me a story under the stars near a grave by the sea.

  At some point, Mac went inside to get ready for her trip to Portland and Trevor arrived for our day of antiquing. I told him I still wanted to spend the day with him, but I’d come to the realization that I needed to try to reach out to Naomi’s mother. I’d want Woody to arrest Naomi’s mother and Jeffrey Kline immediately after I told them what I’d learned, but he wouldn’t be able to do it unless I could give him the proof he needed. The only thing I could do was go to Amelia Collins Landry and somehow get her to confess.

  ******

  “Thanks for coming with me,” I said to Trevor later that morning as we made the drive south again.

  “You know I’m happy to help. But do you really think you can get Naomi’s mother to confess to killing her?”

  I slid back beside Trevor in the driver’s seat. “I don’t know. I think she loved her daughter despite the abuse she doled out for most of her life. It appears she really did, possibly still does suffer from a mental illness that I suppose could explain the abuse. It must bother her to know what she’s done and not be able to talk to anyone about it. If it were me in her situation, I might be just as happy to confess.”

  “She has to know admitting to what she did will land her in prison.”

  “Maybe. But I’d think punishment for crimes committed would be easier to endure than internal punishment for sins not confessed.”

  I hadn’t called ahead this time; I was afraid she would refuse to see me, so I’d decided to show up and take my chances that she’d be home. It was Sunday so there was a good possibility her new family would be there as well. I considered waiting until the next day, but now that I knew the truth, I needed to get this over with. If I could get her to confess, maybe I could convince Mr. Kline he had nothing to lose by keeping the promise he’d made to Naomi all those years ago.

  When we arrived at the house I’d visited once before, we found Amelia Collins Landry in the front yard, tending a bed of annuals. Trevor pulled up to the side and parked. The woman looked up when we both climbed out of the vehicle. I could see her tense, as if she was considering darting away, but Trevor, with his long legs, reached her before she had the chance to flee.

  “What are you doing here?” she asked nervously. “I agreed to speak to you that one time, but you can’t just show up whenever you want. What if my husband was here? What would he say if he knew you were snooping around, digging up things best left buried?”

  “Your husband knows about Naomi?” I asked. “He knows you killed her?”

  Her eyes grew wide. “Who said I killed her? I didn’t kill her. It was an accident. A very tragic accident. It was Jeffrey, wasn’t it? You talked to Jeffrey and he told you everything. I knew I couldn’t trust him. He said he’d take care of everything, but I knew I couldn’t trust him.”

  “If it really was an accident, as you claim, I think you should have a chance to tell your side of the story,” I said, skirting the Jeffrey Kline issue. “I have a friend, Woody Baker, who’ll be willing to listen to what you have to say. He might be able to help you.”

  “Is this Woody?” She nodded to Trevor.

  “No. This is Trevor. Woody is a police officer.”

  Fear slipped quietly into her eyes. “A cop? We can’t tell a cop. Jeffrey said we shouldn’t. He said it was an accident. He said he’d take care of everything.”

  I nodded at Trevor. This was his cue to call Woody and tell him to join us right away. I figured if he turned on his siren, he could be here in less than thirty minutes. I just needed to keep her talking until then. I clicked on my phone to record what she said. I wasn’t sure about the rules regarding the admissibility of a confession recorded without the suspect’s consent, but if she finally told the story she’d been hiding for sixteen years, I didn’t want to miss a word of it, even if it couldn’t be used in court.

  “Jeffrey came to pick you up,” I said. “He didn’t know Naomi was in the backseat of his car,” I continued after Trevor had walked away to make the call. “She wasn’t supposed to be there.”

  “She was hiding. I didn’t mean for her to see. To know what Jeffrey and I had been doing. It was wrong and sinful. It’s a parent’s duty to shield their child from such things.”

  “I understand your desire to protect her. I imagine she was upset when she saw the two of you together.”

  She nodded. “She was so angry. I could see the rage in her eyes. She kept yelling at me, screaming that he was hers. I tried to make her understand she was just a child and he could never be hers, but she was very angry.”

  “So the two of you struggled?”

  Huge tears welled up in Amelia’s eyes. “I tried to calm her down. I grabbed her arms and held on tight. I tried to shake the devil out of her, but she wouldn’t let me. She was too angry. She had the craziness in her, same as me. She tried to pull free, but I held on tight. I’m strong, but I guess somewhere along the way she’d grown stronger. She twisted and pulled away. She jerked herself out of my grip and turned to run. As she turned, she tripped on something, I think a log, or maybe a rock. She screamed and started to fall. She hit the ground hard. So hard. Jeffrey tried to help her, but there was too much blood. So very much blood. I guess I went a little crazy. I don’t remember a lot after that. Jeffrey told me he’d take care of everything. He told me I needed to calm down, but I couldn’t, so he gave me a pill that would do it. I guess he drove me back to the facility. I don’t remember that part of it. I remember Naomi falling. I remember the blood. But the next thing I knew for sure was waking up in my bed.”

  “Did you see Jeffrey again after that day?”

  She nodded. “He came by the facility to tell me that he was leaving Cutter’s Cove. He said it would be for the best for both of us. I hated to see him go, but I was a married woman and he was single. I knew he was right. I’d made an oath to my husband. I’d broken that oath. His leaving was my punishment.”

  “Did he tell you what he’d done with Naomi’s body?” I asked.

  “He said she was happy with the angels. He said she was in a beautiful place. That she could finally find the peace she’d been looking for all her life.”

  “And after that?” I asked.

  “I did my therapy. I took my pills. I got better. I’ve had some hard times since Naomi left us, but I got better.” She looked at me. “Is your friend going to put me in jail?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe,” I answered honestly, just as I saw Woody’s cruiser pull up to the curb.

  She hung her head. “It’s for the best. There are some secrets that should be kept, but this is one that needed to be told.”

  Chapter 13

  Monday, June 25

  “This table has to be mine,” I said to Trevor a week later. We’d never made it antiquing the day Naomi’s mother confessed to her part in her daughter’s death, but Trevor had given me a rain check.

  “It would look good in your entry,” Trev agreed. “Although it needs some work. I can handle the repairs, but we’ll want to negotiate on the price.”

  “Why? I can afford the asking price and I want it.”

  Trevor grinned. “Negotiating is part of the process. I take it you aren’t used to bartering.”

  “Too stressful.”

  “Maybe for you, but negotiating is my superpower. In fact, I’m known in some circles as Negotiator Man. You wouldn’t want to rob me of my chance to save the day by saving you a few bucks.”

  There he was, my goofy friend Trev. The prank-playing comic-book junkie who’d befriended me in high school. “No, bargaining over prices isn’t my thing, but if you enjoy the give and take, go for it.” I looked around the shop. “While you’re doing that, I’m going to check out that umbrella stand. It would be a perfect accompaniment to the table.”

  When Trevor had first suggested antiquing I’d said I’d go, but I wasn’t sure I’d like rooting around items that had been discarded by others for one reason or another, but damn if it wasn’t a blast. The past week had been stressful, and I welcomed a day of eating, shopping, and fun. Mac was in Portland with Ty, again, and Mom had taken a trip down the coast to do some shopping of her own in San Francisco. Neither Mom nor Mac would be home until the following day, so I hadn’t been sure what to do about the dogs, but Woody had offered to come by to let them out at midday, and I decided to let him. He was a responsible guy, and Trevor and I would be back in time for sunset and dinner.

  I hadn’t seen Alyson again after that day on the bluff, but for the first time since I’d decided to stay in Cutter’s Cove, I felt confident she was close by and happy. The only dark spot on my otherwise perfect life was that I suspected Naomi was still waiting for Jeffrey Kline to return, something, I felt sure, would never happen. Both Amelia Collins Landry and Kline had been arrested for their part in Naomi’s death and its cover-up. There were some extenuating circumstances and I wasn’t sure how things would work out, but that was up to the district attorney and courts.

  “Blue or gray?” Trevor asked.

  “Blue or gray what?” I asked.

  “I found a frame for your bed. I think you’ll love it, but it’ll need to be refinished. Do you want me to paint it blue or gray?”

  I lifted a brow. “Can I see it before I commit?”

  “Absolutely.”

  Trevor took me by the arm and led me across the large warehouse-size building. I hadn’t mentioned it to Trevor yet, but I’d already picked out a frame from a catalog after he mentioned that the bed I’d bought as a teen needed a new frame that was better suited to my new life as an adult living in that room. I hadn’t ordered it yet, but I planned to. Still, Trevor was being such a sweetie that I felt I owed it to him to at least take a look at what he’d found.

  “What do you think?”

  I put my hand over my heart when I saw the large metal frame with its intricate design. It was old, unique, and perfect. “It’s fantastic.”

  Trevor beamed. “You really like it?”

  I nodded. “I do. It’s the most perfect thing I never knew I wanted. Until now, of course. Now I have to have it.”

  “It’ll need work, but I think it’s going to be just right in your room. So blue or gray?”

  “Blue. Dark blue. A full, rich blue. It’ll really stand out against the gray walls.”

  Trevor headed over to find the owner of the antique barn to negotiate a price, while I stepped outside for some fresh air. I was having the best day, but I hoped to hear from Woody, who’d promised to try to arrange a visit by Jeffrey to Naomi’s gravesite as part of whatever deal they were working out. I felt my heart break just a bit when I saw the text from Woody informing me that Jeffrey had refused to take the deal in its entirety, which meant he was going to be tried.

  “We should go talk to her again.” Alyson suddenly appeared.

  “You think she’ll listen to us?”

  She shrugged. “She might. Then again, she might not. It’s worth a shot.”

  I took a deep breath. “Okay. As soon as Trevor gets back from trying to knock a few bucks off the furniture I’m buying.”

  “I like the bed frame,” Alyson said. “It’s different but just right.”

  I smiled. “It is just right. I’m pretty sure I walked past it the first time, but once Trev pointed it out, I knew I had to have it.”

  Alyson faded away as Trevor walked out. “All set,” he said. “I just need to load your purchases into my truck and we can head down the road to the next stop on the Trevor Johnson Antiques Roadshow.”

  “I’d like to stop by to try to talk to Naomi. I don’t know if I can get through to her, but we aren’t far from the burial site and I need to try.”

  Trevor took my hand in his. “Are you sure? I hate to see that sunny smile turn to sadness.”

  “I’m sure.”

  “Okay. Then let me load the truck and we’ll head over.”

  Alyson appeared just as Trevor walked away. She took my hand in hers. “Don’t worry. We’ll do this together. I know Naomi wants to be happy. We just need to make her see that she can be.”

  ******

  When we arrived at the bluff, I told Trevor that Alyson was with me and it might be best if he waited for us in the truck. He agreed to do so without saying a word about it. That was one of the things I liked best about spending time with Trevor: everything was so easy. Ethan had liked to discuss things. To debate. Yes, even to negotiate. Perhaps that came from being an attorney, but, as I said, it wasn’t something I enjoyed.

  My stomach knotted and churned as I walked along the dirt path to the little hill where Naomi had been laid to rest. I wondered if her father was planning to rebury her now that he had what was left of her. I supposed someone would bury her remains somewhere. I made a mental note to check on that. If her parents didn’t take the initiative to find a lovely spot for her final resting place, I would.

  Alyson joined me as soon as we reached our destination. I paused and called Naomi’s name. She didn’t appear at first, but after a while I heard the music.

  “Did you bring him?” Naomi asked.

  “No,” I answered truthfully. “I tried, but I’m not sure it’s going to work out. He did send a message for you.”

  Naomi looked hesitant. “A message?”

  Alyson stepped forward. She took Naomi’s hand in hers. “Mr. Kline wants you to know that he cares about you. He wants you to be happy. He wants you to move on.”

  “But…”

  Alyson touched Naomi’s translucent face with her translucent hand. “It’s time. He’s of this world and you aren’t. You can never be together. Not the way you want. The only way to set him free of his obligation to you is for you to move on to the next phase of your existence.”

  “I’m scared.”

  Alyson held out her hand. “I’ll come with you partway.”

  Now I wanted to argue. The last thing I needed was to be pulled into some afterlife dimension, but Alyson sent me a look asking me to trust her, so I did. I watched as both figures faded away. I hoped Naomi would find in the afterlife what she never had in life. Love. Acceptance. Joy. After a few minutes, Alyson reappeared. “It’s done. Can we go home now?”

  I nodded, then watched as Alyson’s form melted into mine.

  Next From Kathi Daley Books

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  Every town has one. A big old house that has stood empty for so long, no one remembers anyone living there. The iconic subject of lore and folktales that hints at supernatural occurrences, tragedy, and family curses that can be neither confirmed nor denied. For the town of White Eagle, Montana, the house that serves as the subject of ghostly stories by the campfire is a huge old mansion built more than sixty years ago by a wealthy industrialist as a country home for his wife and five children. The house, devoid of love and laughter, served as a sort of luxury prison far away from the hustle and bustle of Hartford Harrington’s full and busy life in San Francisco.

  Structurally, Harrington House had weathered the long winters and hot summers of northern Montana. It had endured long after all but one of those five children had been buried in the little family cemetery at the edge of the huge estate. I’m not sure why the place was never sold, or even lived in, by whichever Harrington relation inherited the property, but after the summer Houston Harrington jumped from the third-floor window to the concrete bricks of the veranda below, not a single Harrington or heir had set foot in the place.

  “Morning, Tess, Tilly,” greeted Hap Hollister, as my golden retriever and I entered his home and hardware store to deliver the daily mail, along with a generous dollop of local news.

  “I love the Halloween decorations you put in the window. The cobwebs and spiders are very believable,” I jumped right in after setting the stack of mail I’d brought on the counter.

  “I hope not too believable.” Hap chuckled. “I wouldn’t want to scare away potential customers.”

  “Combined with the big orange pumpkins and jolly scarecrow, I think the window is just right. It’s very inviting.”

 

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