by Wes Markin
A bell tinkled in Mason’s adjacent store. “That’ll be Mrs. Hindley for her husband’s newspaper.” He checked his watch. “Like clockwork. Five past ten. He’s bedbound, you see. Five years this August, every single day. Without fail. I’ve been telling her to have the paper delivered, but she just won’t. Every time, she tells me that she has no family, so the day she stops collecting the newspaper will be the day I know both her and her husband are gone, so they won’t be left to rot.”
“Practical, I guess.”
“People around here can have a funny way of seeing things.”
Jake nodded.
“Goodbye, Jake. I must go to Mrs. Hindley.” As he reached the connecting door, he turned back to Jake, who was heading to the exit himself. “Yes, I know they’ve found that little girl, Collette Jewell. I mean, who doesn’t? And it’s a wonderful thing that she can finally be at peace. Yes, it’ll drag suspicion to my door again.” He extended a hand in Jake’s direction. “Case in point. But, you know, fuck you, and fuck them. My son died this year, and I’m a lonely, old man with nothing but an unprofitable general store and a failing gun shop, so what do I care? Let them come and rake up old cobwebs.”
He turned and left, leaving Jake feeling rather guilty.
“Seriously, who has whipped cream on their coffee?” Jake asked.
“Me,” Peter Sheenan said, wiping some off the end of his nose.
“It’s bad for your teeth.”
Peter smiled, flashing him a row of shiny, white teeth. “Are you worried about them because you paid for them?”
“Not really. Just don’t want you crying to me when your gums ache.”
Peter laughed. “They ache all the damned time anyway!”
Peter Sheenan was Native American. At seventy-three, he was still going strong and put it down to the rich Abenaki blood that coursed through his veins. However, despite his healthy appearance, he harboured his fair share of pain. After serving with the K9 Corps in Vietnam and developing a close bond with his Lab retriever, Prince, he’d been forced to watch the American Government leave thousands of these loyal canines behind as surplus equipment in Vietnam. Such pain never left a man like Peter, and after learning how badly Jotham MacLeoid was treating his American pit bull terriers, he’d decided to rescue them.
After Jotham had smashed his teeth with the butt of his rifle, Peter had been left to the mercy of three of Jotham’s pit bulls and forced into the unthinkable: using a concealed knife on the kind of animal he cherished most in this world.
“I’m still going to repay you for the surgery.”
“You are doing it already,” Jake said, pointing at his mug.
“Going to take me a long time to repay you in coffee.”
“We best drink quicker then.”
They sat in Crowther’s Coffee Cabin on Main Street. It was one of the few businesses still thriving in the difficult economic times, so Chase Crowther opted to keep his place looking shabby and lowkey despite the significant funds at his disposal. It would have made good business sense to make his café stand out from the several boarded-up properties alongside his, but he felt it would have been a little bit crass.
“Tell me about Mason Rogers,” Jake said, trying to stop himself sinking too deeply into an old sofa with worn springs.
“And here’s me thinking you just wanted to catch up.”
“We catch up nearly every day. Conversation is getting stretched thin now.”
Peter smiled, but then shook his head. “You know he’s one of my closest friends, don’t you? And before you remark that I don’t have many friends, just let me remind you of the limited options in this town. I’m sitting with you, for example.”
Jake smiled this time. “Listen, I’m not after ammunition. I just want to know a little more about the man.”
“His son just died, Jake.”
Jake nodded. “I know.”
“So, you wouldn’t need ammunition if you went after him anyway. He would crumble quite easily, especially after the last time.”
“They went after him hard last time, did they?”
“Well, the father of the missing girl was the chief, so what do you think?”
“I can only imagine.”
“At one point, some of the locals had him on the street at gunpoint. Ironically, it was Earl Jewell who got them to stand down, not out of concern for him, of course, but because he believed he knew where his daughter was. If he died, then she’d never be found.”
“So, how did they clear him?”
“Not sure they ever really did. The investigation just moved on. To Portland. They released the photograph of Collette Jewell throughout Maine, and several witnesses from that area came forward to say they’d seen her with a young couple. I remember seeing the facial composites. They were everywhere at one point. They yielded nothing though, and neither Portland nor anyone else, reported any more sightings of Collette Jewell.”
“Because she was at the bottom of the Skweda.”
Peter nodded sadly. “Strange that sudden burst of witnesses from Portland.”
“Yes, sounds like a diversionary tactic. I went to see Mason this morning.”
Peter’s eyes widened, and he shook his head. “He’s innocent.”
“I never said he wasn’t. I was shopping for a gun.”
“Bullshit.”
Jake took a mouthful of coffee. “Well, it was one of the reasons I was there.”
“And the other reason would have broken that man’s heart. He’ll know he’s back on the radar.”
“You don’t think he knew that even before I walked through that door?”
Peter sighed. “Mason is salt of the earth. I’ve lost count of the number of times he’s been there for me. His wife, Lorraine, died of cancer over ten years back. Anthony was only twelve or thirteen at the time, and it hit him hard. Mason did everything he could for that boy, but he rebelled every step of the way. He’d lost that boy long before his body was found in that pit.”
“How long have you known him, Peter?”
“I moved to Blue Falls fifteen years ago. As you know, most of my people are in Sharon’s Edge, but I needed a change. This town is not the most welcoming place, as you’ve discovered yourself, but I remember the first time I visited that store. Mason was fitting a new refrigerator. The old bastard was making a right mess of it, so I gave him a hand. He rewarded me with a six-pack, which I then drank in his company. Nobody can throw back a can like that man. Mind you, after his experiences in ninety, he’s probably had a lot of practice.”
“What was his wife like?”
“A quiet woman. She always looked worn out, and her hair was white and unkempt. They’d married back in eighty-five, and I guess the experience of living with the prime suspect in a child abduction case took its toll—”
Jake’s cell interrupted them. “Lillian?”
“Hi, Jake. Can you meet me at Lookout Corner?”
“Yes … why?”
“I know what Gabriel is up to, and I think he’s about to go gung-ho.”
“See you in fifteen,” Jake said, already on his feet. After hanging up, he shook Peter’s hand. “Later, okay?”
“Of course.” He lifted the coffee cup to his mouth. “I’ll have a few more of these and add them to your tab.”
Jake smiled. “Just go easy on the cream.”
LEANING AGAINST a boarded-up store, the old man watched Jake Pettman leave Crowther’s Coffee Cabin.
“Big boy, isn’t he?” his older brother said.
“He reminds me of Earl Jewell and his son—men who like to make an entrance.”
“Yes, like a herd of fucking elephants,” his older brother said. “But don’t you worry. Noise is temporary, while silence is forever.”
“Very profound, brother.”
“And what would you have said? ‘The bigger they are, the harder they fall’?”
“Something like that.”
His older brother opened his ja
cket, revealing the handles of the pliers poking from his inside pocket. “Are we ready, then?”
The old man raised an eyebrow. “You’re insane. Isn’t there enough heat on us?”
“You always did move too slow.”
“No, I’m just careful.”
“Ponderous.”
“Listen, brother, killing this man will achieve nothing.”
His older brother smiled. “Are you sure about that? Jesus, look.” He pointed across the road at Peter Sheenan as he emerged from Crowther’s Coffee Cabin.
6
AFTER LOOKING THROUGH the spyhole, Charlotte White’s initial reaction was to back away, but, following a deep breath, she regained control of herself and opened the door to her visitor. “You’re the spitting image of your father.”
“So people say,” Gabriel said. “They don’t often tell me he was a good man though, but he was.”
“In his own way, yes.” Her voice was hoarse; Gabriel wasn’t sure if this was the emotion or the eighty years of wear and tear on her vocal cords. “Earl never stopped trying for the truth.”
“No, he didn’t. I read the files. My father gave everything he had, Mrs. White, to finding the person who murdered your son.”
“But came up empty handed.”
Gabriel nodded.
“Are you here to tell me that you finally found someone?”
“I’m afraid not.”
Her eyes lowered. “Forty-five years and twenty-six days is a long time to go without the truth.”
Gabriel nodded again. “But I do have something, Mrs. White.”
She looked back up. “What?”
“It’s probably better if I came in.”
Jake contacted Piper on his cell. “I missed you last night. I thought you’d come back.”
“I was up late with Sadie at Mom’s. She was shaken up by the news, so we had a few drinks. Before we knew it, neither of us were in a fit state to drive.”
“I hope she’s feeling better.”
“I think she is. We didn’t get up until late, and she only just headed off. Anyway, what happened last night?”
Jake ran through the events of the previous evening and what had happened regarding Gabriel, Louise, and Lillian.
“What does Lillian think of this Louise Price?”
“Strong-willed and capable.”
“She’ll have to be, to keep Gabriel at arm’s length.”
“Yes, which is the reason I’m off to meet Lillian. She’s found out something about Gabriel. No idea what yet.”
“Where’re you meeting?”
“Lookout Corner.”
There was a moment of silence.
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing …”
“Could have fooled me.”
“Just a strange choice of place to meet, that’s all.”
“I guess she just chose somewhere out of the way so we aren’t seen talking. I don’t think she’s going to do me in.”
“It’s not that …”
“Go on, then.”
“It’s nothing.”
“Piper?”
“Just a bit eerie.”
“I’m waiting …”
Piper told him, and his mouth fell open.
The River Skweda curved sharply at Lookout Corner.
Lillian was already standing on the raised platform overlooking the river.
Jake climbed the steps to join her by the plaque: Captain William Ross, 1710 - 1765, Just like the Skweda, you will always run through the heart of our town.
Lillian faced Jake. “Founding Blue Falls was one of the last things he ever did.”
“Yes, I heard. Drank himself to death, I believe.”
“He was a war hero, and probably went through hell. They didn’t really recognize and treat PTSD back then, so I guess you had to find your own medicine.”
Jake nodded. “Strange spot to have a memorial—out in the middle of nowhere.”
Lillian turned to look over the river. “When he was awarded Rosstown Plantation in seventeen sixty-five, he stood on this very spot and declared this the heart of his new land.”
Jake stood alongside her. The water was calm today, but he could still hear it hiss as it stroked the banks.
Lillian pointed at a large rock that jutted a foot from the water. “When the river flows fast, the water smashes into the rock, torrents high into the air, and cascades down the other side. On a particularly sunny day, the waters can appear a deep blue. So, when he saw this, Ross named the first of the three towns on the Skweda, Blue Falls.”
Jake smiled. “Why did you bring me to this place, Lillian?”
She shrugged. “The privacy?”
“What about its infamous history?”
“I don’t follow.”
“The Bickfords?”
She paused, then turned her widened eyes toward him. “Ah, shit, Jake. I didn’t think.”
Jake continued to smile. “Don’t worry about it. I’m not sentimental.”
Jake’s ancestors, the Bickfords, had founded the Blue Fall Taps in the early nineteenth century and, according to the history books, had run it as a brothel. They’d then, according to which version of history one bought into, stolen children from local towns, such as Sharon’s Edge, to staff it. After the Bickfords had been run from town and fled to England, the bodies of five children had been recovered. Two of the dead children had been cast aside in the undergrowth here at Lookout Corner.
“They wanted those bodies found,” Jake said. “They knew their time was up, and they were getting ready to run. Scattering the bodies of those poor kids was their final fuck you to the town.”
Lillian grimaced. “Sorry, Jake. I feel awful now.”
“Why? I’ve learned something new today because of you. Besides, I’m still holding onto the hope that way back somewhere in my family tree someone was adopted and that I’m not descended by blood. Anyway, back to more pressing issues, especially the one about Gabriel going gung-ho.”
“We have cameras in the police department on a forty-eight-hour loop.”
Jake’s heart rate quickened. “So, you’ve seen why Gabriel returned to the station last night?”
Lillian nodded, smiling. “He went into storage, which is also monitored. He pulled an old file. Glad he used the light and not some dying torch, like in an old movie; the clarity was fantastic. I managed to zoom in. I got the case number, Jake.”
Jake’s eyes widened. “And that record also exists in the database?”
“Do you want to tell this story for me? Yes, it exists. Which is kind of fortunate, really. The case is from seventy-five, and it wasn’t too long ago that we brought in some admin staff to scan in the old files.”
“You’re a flipping genius, Lillian.”
“Compliment accepted, but you can’t be my biggest fan; someone else beat you to that accolade.”
“Who?”
“Lieutenant Price. She told me in my car last night. Anyway, do you want to know what was in the casefile?”
Jake nodded and, holding tightly to the railing that would stop the unsure of foot from taking an early bath in the Skweda, listened to the story of Bobby White and Henry Clark.
“The file is long, Jake, and I haven’t printed any of it, as I don’t want anyone to notice at the department, but that’s the gist of it. So, what is it about this unsolved double murder that has Gabriel in a tizzy?”
“Don’t know, but there must be some connection to the body of his sister, because it wasn’t long after seeing her that he went to collect that file.”
“Yes, but they died in different ways. The boys from blunt force trauma, and then delivered to the parents—wrong ones, I might add. The file suggests the courier service made a mess of it. Collette died from a broken neck and was weighted down in the river.”
“There must be something else. Was there anything else in the autopsy report?”
“I don’t think so, but I did read it quickly.” Sh
e pulled out her cell. “I wasn’t going to risk print-outs, but I took a few snaps. Let me see … yes, here it is.”
Jake let her read. He stared across the river—a river that had taken its name from the Abenaki. Fire in Bone. How many bones were at the bottom of that river that the Abenaki had worshipped? How many fires had been extinguished by the water that had so fascinated Captain William Ross?
“There it is.” She spoke quickly. “Awful … grim … but there it is … a connection. Both boys had their teeth removed post-mortem. Collette also had her teeth removed, but we’ll have to wait for the lab results before determining if it was done was post-mortem.”
“Maybe they were taking souvenirs?” Jake sighed. “I’ve seen something similar back home. This certainly could be the same person.”
“These crimes are fifteen years apart!”
“Is that really so long a time when you consider these crimes were in the same town?”
“So, does the killer live here, or did they return for a second time?”
“I don’t know, but I do know this’ll have been enough to spark Gabriel into action.”
Lillian’s brow furrowed. “I need to speak to Louise Price.”
“You do, but first, we need to anticipate Gabriel’s next move.”
“And shut him down.”
“Maybe. Maybe not.”
“You’re the last person I would expect to say that! You’ve made no secret of your feelings for—”
“Listen, Lillian. An old colleague and friend once told me to carefully watch the behavior of the obsessed. They can lead you to the truth faster than anything else can.”
“Did he also tell you that they could also destroy it faster than anyone else?”
“There’s always a risk, I guess. Let’s check out his next move and take it from there. Price will be busy with the autopsy now. Let’s do them a favor.”
“So, what’s the chief’s next move, Jake?”
Jake watched Ross’s famed rock glow in a sudden burst of strong sunlight and thought. “Well, my next move would be the surviving relatives of the two boys. A lot changes in forty-five years. Things that were blurred then can be clearly remembered. Truths about people they knew and trusted may also have come to light.”
