Secrets By The Sea, page 9
part #2 of Haunting By The Sea Series
“Speaking of Ethan,” Mac said as we reached the landing on the first floor, “what does he think about your move?”
“When I called to break up with him, he almost seemed relieved. Things have been over for quite some time; we were just too busy to notice.”
When we walked into the kitchen we found Trevor chopping vegetables for a salad, while Mom sat at the bar talking to him. Now that was a flip from the norm.
“It smells delicious in here,” I said.
“One of the reasons I love Italian food is because it smells so good while it’s cooking,” Trevor answered. “Your mom and I were just about to take a bottle of wine onto the deck while the lasagna bakes. Would the two of you like a glass?”
The evening was warm, the air calm. Large waves rolled gently onto the beach, breaking at the last minute, almost like an afterthought. Seagulls circled overhead, scouting for the unlucky fish that would be their dinner. The sun had begun its descent toward the horizon as boats with white sails drifted slowly out toward the open sea to watch it set. If sunrises in this house were spectacular, sunsets were indescribably breathtaking. I sat down between Mom and Trevor, who sat between Mac and me.
“What a great way to end the day.” Mac sighed in contentment.
“It’s the best,” I agreed as Sunny lumbered over and put her head in my lap. I reached down to pet her, hoping Tucker wouldn’t be jealous. He seemed fine having a second dog in the house, but then, he’d always been easygoing. I wondered if Mom would miss having him with her. Tucker was too old to travel back and forth across the country, but perhaps a small dog that would fit in an airline-approved carrier and could be trained for travel would be just the thing. I’d have to talk to her about it before she left.
“So, tell me about the new mystery you’re working on,” Mac said after a while. “Trev filled me in on the basics, but I want to help.”
We took turns telling Mac what we knew. She interrupted to ask questions, and it didn’t take long for her to get up to speed.
“Do you think Naomi knows who killed her?” Mac asked.
“I don’t know. She’s skittish. She has yet to materialize, and I can only get very brief comments from her when she speaks at all. In my opinion, the person who killed her cared about her, so while we’re researching people like the man working on the neighbor’s house and the high school janitor, I don’t think either of them will turn out to be the killer.”
“Why do you think she was killed by someone who cares about her?” Mac asked.
“Because of the grave. It seemed care was taken to choose a beautiful, peaceful setting. It was tucked away where it wasn’t likely to be found, yet it was close to the sea on a beautiful knoll, marked with a handmade cross. Some random killer probably wouldn’t have gone to so much trouble. There are a lot of places it would have been easier to dump a body if you just didn’t want it to be found.”
“Makes sense.” Mac nodded.
“It’s all so tragic,” Mom added. “To have your life taken from you before you’ve even had a chance to live has to be its own kind of hell, but to have it taken by someone you knew and possibly even cared about.”
“It has to feel like the ultimate betrayal,” I finished.
“Do you suspect the father?” Mac asked.
I frowned. Did I? “I’m not sure. Maybe. Though something about the father as the killer doesn’t ring true to me. Based on what I’ve learned, he was a violent man who drank too much, and it does seem as if he might have been the last person to see her alive, but I don’t know.” I tried to sort out my thoughts, which had become jumbled over the course of the past couple of days.
“If you’re going with the theory that the killer was someone who cared about Naomi, who else could it be but the father?” Mac asked.
“Jeffrey Kline, the music teacher, or someone else in Naomi’s life we haven’t yet identified.” I took in a frustrated breath. “I need to get Naomi to talk to me. Getting her to share her memories, even if they’re fragmented, is the best chance of figuring out what happened to her.”
Mom placed her hand on my arm. “Give it time. You’re good at this. You’ll figure it out.”
I squeezed Mom’s hand. “Thanks, Mom. Sometimes I need some encouragement.”
Trevor stood up with his empty wineglass. “The lasagna should be about done. I’ll put the bread in the oven.”
“I’ll set the table,” Mac offered, rising as well.
Mom offered to help, and I grabbed my camera to capture the last whisper of daylight as the sky, streaked with orange and red, slowly faded to gray. One of my favorite times of day was the brief breath between light and darkness, when colors faded and the trees on the hillside slowly disappeared from sight. The silhouette of ordinary objects took on a mysterious sensation in those few minutes before the sky darkened completely and stars began to litter the sky. My work with my camera had shown me that beauty could be found in commonplace objects if they were captured in the right light or at the right angle. A tree limb that had washed up onto the beach could add texture to the otherwise flat surface of the sand and the sea.
I kept snapping shots, changing position, angling the camera, trying different lenses. When the sky was completely dark, I stopped and looked toward the horizon.
“Anything interesting?” Mom asked.
I held up the viewing window of the camera and began to flip though the shots I’d taken. “I especially like this one.” I paused at the image of the sky turning dark, yet still light enough so the silhouettes of seagulls in flight over the rocky shore was clearly visible. “I think I might play with the tones a bit. If it turns out the way I hope, I’ll print and matte it. The gray is exactly the color I want to bring into the house.”
“I love this one with all the purple,” Mom said. “Print it for me? I think this might just be the subject of a new painting.”
“You’re going to need a truck to get all the paintings you’ve been working on here to New York.”
Mom shrugged. “If I need a truck I can rent one, but airplanes have plenty of room in cargo. It looks like the food is on the table.”
I hooked my arm through hers and we joined Mac and Trevor. This, I thought, was the way I wanted to end every day. With everyone I loved in the world sitting around the table sharing a meal and talking about our day.
Chapter 9
Saturday, June 16
The dream had returned, more vivid, more intense, than before. I supposed its sheer energy could be the result of the time I’d spent on the little knoll, trying to bond with Naomi, the previous day. Mac had been setting up her office, Trevor was at work, and Mom was sequestered in the attic painting, so I’d taken the time I thought I’d need to finally connect with the young girl.
For a long time I’d sat alone, looking out at the sea. I waited patiently for her to come to me. I hoped she would trust me enough to seek me out. I was alone for quite some time, but at last I began to hear the music. It was the same melody I’d heard before. A tune I was certain was familiar to me, yet not identifiable to my conscious mind. The seductive song was being played on a piano that was so far away it seemed more like an echo. Or maybe a memory. The haunting song spoke of loss. Despair. Longing.
Before coming to the bluff, I’d spent an hour with Woody going over the suspect list again. He’d gotten alibis for, and managed to definitively eliminate, Greg Dalton, Zander Barrington, Wade Stone, Peter Steadman, and Ron Pullman. That left Naomi’s father, Bodine Collins; Carl Woodbine, the husband of the woman Collins was having an affair with; Frank Joplin, the homeless man Naomi was seen talking to; and the guy on the Harley. Due mostly to my gut feeling that Jeffrey Kline fit the profile for the killer, he was still on the list. Woody had pulled his employment record with the school board. He’d taken time off at the beginning of the week Naomi went missing, which matched his assertion that he’d been visiting his sister, but he was back in town by midweek, and because we didn’t know for certain when Naomi had died, it was possible he was the killer.
I sat up and looked around my still-dark room. It was early, but the dream had shattered any hope I had of sleep. I got up and pulled on some warm sweatpants and a matching sweatshirt. Slipping my Nike’s onto my feet, I grabbed a flashlight and went downstairs. Mac and Mom probably wouldn’t be up for hours, but that was fine. I needed quiet time to think. Opening the front door, I stepped out into the cool morning air. Tucker and Sunny followed closely behind me, and I made my way to the bluff trail. The waves crashed in the distance, and a light breeze coming from the west caressed my face as I lifted it to the inky dark sky. It was peaceful out here on the bluff, where my only company other than the dogs were the twinkling stars overhead. I closed my eyes as the power of the sea steeped into my soul, as it had a hundred times before.
“What are you trying to tell me?” I whispered as the dream came to the forefront of my mind. It had started, as it always did, with me walking over the rolling hills that led to the isolated gravesite. In the past, I’d stood passively as I let images wash through my mind. But this time, I’d fallen to my knees, terror engulfing me. I began to sink to the ground, as if joining Naomi there in the dark, in the hell where she’d been waiting all these years.
I opened my eyes as my heart began to race again. The dream had felt so real. I could still feel the panic I had as the earth swallowed me one breath at a time. As far as I knew, Naomi hadn’t been buried alive. At least I hoped not. Woody said she’d suffered a head injury that was assumed to have been fatal.
I wondered if Naomi somehow was the source of the dreams. If, for some reason, she came to me in the dead of night when the world was quiet and my mind relaxed. She hadn’t yet appeared in ghostly form at any time, but during the night, when there was no one to see… Was she afraid? Ashamed? Had whatever had happened to her been so traumatic that even in death she felt the need to hide? I supposed the only one who had the answers to these questions was Naomi herself, so I’d wait, and listen, and try to understand the message I somehow knew would someday be mine to determine.
Tucker and Sunny sat at my feet, perhaps wondering why we were standing around out here in the dark when a perfectly good house with light, and warmth, and breakfast awaited. I sent a silent plea to Naomi, then turned around and walked back along the path with only my flashlight to guide me. Today would be another day. I’d try again. I’d try every day until I made the connection I needed. I supposed I could be wasting my time. If Naomi wanted my help, wouldn’t she accept what I offered? But I didn’t think a lack of desire on her part was what was going on. It was something else, something shocking that kept Naomi cowering in the dark.
Mac joined me on the deck just as the sky began to turn to gold. The sun hadn’t yet peeked over the horizon, but its promise was already evident in the changing colors, now gold, then pink, then red.
“Do you need a refill on your coffee?” she asked.
“No. Thank you. I’ve had four cups already. I should probably quit before I end up spending the whole day bouncing off the walls.”
Mac slid into the chair next to me as red turned to blue. “Four cups. You must have gotten up early.”
“Couldn’t sleep.”
“The dream you told me about?”
I yawned and nodded.
“Maybe you should take today off. Recharge a bit after the long day you put in yesterday.”
I reached my arms over my head in a gentle stretch. “No. I need to finish this. I realize that in many ways I’m no closer to solving this mystery than I was when I started, yet I know I’m close. I can feel it. The answer. Just out of my reach but oh so close.”
“Sounds frustrating.”
“Very frustrating.” I turned slightly in my chair. “Are you planning to work today?”
“For a while. I got everything set up yesterday. I want to contact the clients I hope will follow me to let them know what I’m doing. I’m not quite ready to open my doors, but I want to provide a timeline so anyone who’s wondering what became of me will know.”
“Trev invited us over to his place tonight. He won’t close until nine tonight, so he wasn’t thinking dinner. He mentioned wine, and it’s supposed to be warm this evening. Maybe sitting out on his deck and watching the waves roll in?”
“Sounds nice,” Mac agreed. “He does have an awesome spot right on the sand.”
“It’s absolutely gorgeous. I’ll admit I was shocked when he brought me home to dinner. I was expecting pizza, either in the restaurant or in a tiny apartment somewhere. When I saw his house on the beach and he cooked me scampi, I was speechless. Absolutely speechless.”
“Trev has worked hard. He’s done well for himself,” Mac said. “I always knew he’d do something spectacular with his life.”
I scrunched up my nose. “Really? I kind of thought of him as a slacker in high school.”
Mac raised a brow. “A slacker? He was a star football, basketball, and baseball player, who worked hard, practiced religiously, and helped take all three teams to the state championships. He had a part-time job he used to maintain his car and pay his own expenses, and he had a decent grade point average while taking some of the same advance placement classes we did.”
I narrowed my gaze. “I guess you’re right. I don’t know where the slacker impression came from. Maybe he just made things look easy. Like he wasn’t really trying. Wow,” I said as the reality of what Mac had said sank in. “How could I have been so wrong?”
Mac shrugged. “I get it. You had your own stuff going on, and Trev was a bit of a goofball. I’m sure you weren’t the only one who didn’t realize how exceptional the guy beneath the superhero T-shirts, silly jokes, and casual approach to life really was.”
“Maybe, but I’m not most people. Trev is and was one of my two best friends. He helped me solve all those mysteries. Sure, he wasn’t as smart as you, but no one is. I should have noticed what you apparently did.”
Mac didn’t say anything, but I didn’t expect her to. Mac and Trev had been friends since preschool. Given their easy way with each other, I’d wondered when I’d first met them if they were more than friends. Now, considering the way she’d leaped to his defense, I wondered the same thing again. Reason number four, I told myself, we were just friends. The last thing I wanted to do was make things awkward among us, and I didn’t want to risk what the three of us had. I was more concerned than ever to bury any feelings of attraction I might be experiencing, especially now that I understood what an amazing man my goofy friend had grown up to be.
“I was thinking of making an omelet for breakfast. Mushroom and sausage. Are you interested?” I asked.
“Sounds great,” Mac answered. “Do you need help?”
“No. Just relax. Enjoy the dawn of the new day. I’ll bring the food out when it’s ready.”
“Are you planning on cooking for me every morning?” Mac asked with a grin on her face.
“Fat chance. I usually have yogurt or cereal for breakfast. Today, however, I find I’m in need of something with substance.”
Mac leaned back in her chair and looked out to the sea, and I went into the house. Mom had worked late again last night, so I doubted we’d see her much before lunch. She’d always been something of a night owl, while I was an early riser. Maybe not quite as early as I’d woken this morning, though, I thought as I took eggs, sausage, mushrooms, and cheese from the refrigerator. But early; before the sun rose. In New York, I preferred to jog in the early hours, before most people were out of bed. I liked the quiet. The solitude. The opportunity to greet each new day as it dawned.
Grabbing some fresh herbs from the crisper, I sprinkled them over the eggs. Popping two pieces of bread in the toaster, I grabbed a pitcher of orange juice and two glasses and took them out to the deck. “Eggs will be ready in a minute if you need a coffee refill.”
“Thanks, but I’ll switch to juice,” Mac said.
“Butter on your toast?”
“Always.”
Mac was as skinny as she’d ever been. Skinnier, in fact. Yet she still seemed to eat like a linebacker most of the time. I supposed it took energy to do all the mental stuff she did every day. I’d maintained my high school weight as well, but I had to work at it. Mac didn’t seem to need to. She never had. Good metabolism, I guess.
I transferred the omelets to plates and added the toast, grabbed the salt and pepper, and brought everything outside. The sun was rising by this point, glistening on the sea. I always enjoyed the promise of a new day, and today, I vowed, would be the one when I somehow managed to convince Naomi to trust me.
******
As I usually did, before I went to the gravesite, I stopped to check in with Woody. If he had news, I wanted to hear it. He’d been working hard to narrow down the suspects and focus on the details of Naomi’s murder. The little nick on her rib, it turned out, was most likely the result of a break inflicted at some time earlier than the head injury that had killed her. What sort of hell had the poor girl been forced to endure? No wonder she was still skittish years after her death.
“I was hoping you’d stop by,” Woody said as I entered his office.
“Do you have news?” I asked. My part in the investigation was to connect with Naomi, while Woody’s was the usual police procedure, and so far, he’d been doing a lot better job than I had.
“While Jeffrey Kline indeed took off the Monday and Tuesday of the week Naomi went missing, he wasn’t visiting his sister, as he claimed.”
“Why would he lie about where he was?” I asked.
“The only explanation I can come up with is that he was doing something he didn’t want anyone to know about.”
“Like killing and burying Naomi.”
