by Kathi Daley
When I arrived at the park, I found the parking lot full. I supposed I should have expected that. Some drivers had parallel parked on the street, but with my SUV’s extra-long frame, I figured I was better off not even trying. I’d noticed an open field about a quarter of a mile back. Deciding to just park there and then walk to the park, I looked for a place to turn around.
By the time I finally made it to the park, the rest of the gang were already gathered around a long picnic table in the shade. Predictably, once everyone had said their hellos, the conversation had returned to Cammy’s death, and the recent gossip and updates those in the group had picked up.
“I talked to Hillary,” Tegan jumped in. She looked at me. “Hillary was one of Cammy’s best friends.” She turned her attention back to the group as a whole. “She told me that Cammy had shown up at the gathering on the bluff, but had seemed sort of moody and distracted. Hillary had asked if everything was okay, and Cammy had told her that everything was fine. She’d claimed that she’d had a long day and needed sleep, so would probably bail early. At some point, Hillary noticed that Cammy was gone, but she just assumed she’d gone home early as she indicated she might.”
“Did Hillary hear from Cammy after that?” Jemma asked. “Was she the friend who received the text we’ve been hearing about?”
“She said no,” Tegan said.
“It seems odd that Cammy would send a text as some sort of a suicide note and not send it to Hillary,” Jemma said. “The two were close.”
“Were any of you at the party?” I asked, realizing that it hadn’t come up yet, but the group had discussed going out last night.
“Not at that party,” Josie answered. “There was another party down at Surfside Beach. Cammy turned twenty-one this summer and tended to hang out with a younger and rowdier crowd made up of college-aged kids, whereas the party we attended were adults in their late twenties and early thirties. Most of us had jobs to show up for the next morning or babysitters to relieve at the stroke of midnight, so it was a pretty tame affair.”
“I heard the party on the bluff got pretty wild,” Coop said. “In a way, I’m surprised there weren’t more casualties than just Cammy. In my opinion, if you are going to get wasted, you probably shouldn’t do it just feet away from a sharp drop off.”
“Did Hillary or anyone say if Cammy was drunk?” Booker asked.
“Hillary told me she was fine the last time she saw her,” Tegan shared. “She looked tired, but she knew Cammy was supposed to pitch at today’s game, so Hillary suspected that she planned to go home early. Hillary seemed totally lost as to what might have happened.”
“It looks like Parker is talking to Cammy’s brother,” Tegan said, glancing in the direction of the grills that someone had brought. “I’m going to head over and see if I can eavesdrop. Why don’t the rest of you head over to the softball game? The bleachers are already filling up, and we didn’t bring chairs. Save me a seat along the back row if you can get one that high, and I’ll fill you in when I get there.”
I found it odd that Cammy’s brother would even be here at the park if his sister had just been found dead, but no one seemed to question his presence at the event, and everyone in our group agreed to Tegan’s plan and headed toward the bleachers, so I followed them. It looked like there was room on both the back row and the row in front of it, and since two rows of three made for easier conversation than one row of six, Booker and Coop took seats in the back row, saving a spot for Tegan, while Jemma, Josie, and I sat in front of them.
“This park is really nice,” I said to no one in particular once we’d gotten settled. Not only was there a huge picnic area and two playgrounds for the kids, but in addition to the softball field, there were horseshoe pits, a volleyball area with eight nets, and a gazebo that was currently filled with jack-o’-lanterns of various shapes and sizes.
“The town is very family and visitor-oriented,” Jemma said. “There are events almost every weekend during the summer and fall, right through Christmas. It’s quieter in the winter, which is nice for the locals. If you plan to be here in December, you should join the Santa’s Village volunteer committee. We can always use help, and it will be a good way to meet people.’
“I do plan to be here and will look into the committee,” I said. “Thank you for mentioning it. Do they set up the village here in the park?”
“In town, actually, but the gazebo is all lit up and decorated. It’s really magical, although even the gazebo can’t compete with the giant tree on the boardwalk. If we’re lucky, we’ll get snow this year. We don’t always, but when we do, the entire town feels like a Santa’s Village.”
“It sounds magical.”
“And you’ll want to plan to come out for the boat parade,” Booker added.
“Boat parade?” I asked.
“A lot of the locals decorate their boats in a holiday theme, and then they form a line and parade along the boardwalk. The bay is fairly deep, so we’re able to get pretty close to the boardwalk. The boats are all lit up. It’s really something to see.”
“It sounds wonderful.” I glanced at the men behind me. “I’m sure I’ll be here at least that long. My stay is rather open-ended, but I’m looking forward to getting involved in any way that I can.”
The conversation, which, given the circumstances, seemed sort of out of place, paused. I supposed that everyone was just trying for a sense of normalcy in the absence of something helpful to do, but in my mind, there really wasn’t anything normal about the situation.
I watched Tegan as she pushed her way through the crowd and headed in our direction.
“So?” Josie asked.
“Parker said that the current theory being worked by both Deputy Todd and the investigators from the county is that Cammy had been despondent over her breakup with Brody and had taken her own life,” Tegan answered.
“Has anyone spoken to Brody?” Jemma asked.
Tegan shook her head. “Parker said that Brody has been sequestered on the family compound, and no one is getting past the guards at the gate to speak to him. Parker wasn’t even certain if Deputy Todd had spoken to him yet. She seemed to think that Harrison Davenport had his attorney run interference for Brody, and we all know that Deputy Todd will never do anything to cross Harrison.”
“So this Harrison Davenport has Deputy Todd under his thumb,” I said.
Coop nodded. “Brody had an auto accident while intoxicated last year, which resulted in two women spending weeks in the hospital. Even though it was obviously Brody’s fault, he never even spent one night in jail. Harrison paid off the injured women, and Deputy Todd was convinced to drop the whole thing due to a lack of conclusive evidence that Brody was the one who caused the accident in the first place. If it had been anyone else behind the wheel that night, they’d likely still be locked up.”
“So even if Brody pushed Cammy off the bluff, it’s unlikely Deputy Todd will pursue that line of investigation,” I said.
“Basically,” everyone agreed.
“Parker isn’t giving up on this,” Tegan said. “She’s after the truth and determined to get it. I told her we’d all help.”
“Anything she needs,” Jemma said.
“Maybe we should meet. Come up with a strategy,” Josie suggested.
“I can talk to Steve,” Booker offered, referring to the younger of Cammy’s two brothers. “He hangs out down at the harbor. If he knows anything he wasn’t comfortable telling Todd or Parker, he might spill the beans to me.”
“Is Peter in town?” Tegan asked, referring to Cammy’s eldest brother.
“No. He’s still living on the east coast,” Booker said. “I imagine he’ll show up once he can make travel arrangements, but he’s been gone for a while. I doubt he’ll know anything about what’s going on.”
“How about we meet for dinner tomorrow at the cottage,” Josie suggested.
Everyone agreed they were in. I wasn’t a hundred percent sure I’d been included in
the invitation, so didn’t respond right away, but when Josie looked at me specifically, I nodded my head.
“Six o’clock,” Josie said.
“I’ll bring the food if someone wants to bring the beer,” Tegan added.
By the time the softball game began, our plan had been finalized. I tried to enjoy the rivalry between the two teams that apparently played each other every year, but all I could think about was the smiling young woman who’d been so excited to have been asked to pitch for the red team today.
Chapter 5
As I had the previous morning, I got up early and took the dogs for a run. I figured I didn’t need to be anywhere until six o’clock that evening when I’d agreed to attend the dinner and strategy session at Jemma and Josie’s place, so perhaps I’d continue on down the trail I’d found yesterday and try to get a better look at the house. Even if I wasn’t able to get close to it, the trail through the forest and up onto Piney Point was gorgeous. The day had dawned sunny yet cool, so I slipped a pair of running shorts and a matching sweatshirt on. The trail heading toward the point was deserted at this time of the day, so I settled into a comfortable rhythm and embraced the scenery around me.
As the trail narrowed and began to climb, I thought about the diary and the photo I’d found tucked away in my father’s belongings. I still didn’t really buy the idea that the house on the point was one where I’d spent time at some point in my past, but there was no denying the sense of homecoming I’d felt when I’d stood on that bluff and looked across the inlet on the day I’d first arrived. I thought about the cop who’d rescued and raised me. The man who’d told me he’d adopted me. I’d lived my whole life never doubting that, but after he’d died, I’d found the photo and began having the dreams, so I decided to look into things, and despite an exhaustive search, I was unable to find a single reference to my adoption. I’d gone to school and received a driver’s license, so I must have had a legal ID of some sort, but despite my efforts, I’d never found anything that officially gave my dad custody of me.
I could have gone to the county and dug deeper, but I didn’t want to taint my father’s name by bringing up questions about an adoption I was beginning to believe had never occurred. I supposed it wasn’t entirely unreasonable to believe that my father may have decided to skirt the system and simply keep me after finding me if he felt there was a good reason to do so.
My dad hadn’t exactly been a “by the books” sort of cop. He’d been more the sort to do whatever needed to be done to obtain the results he was after. I could totally imagine him realizing that I would be better off with him than in the system, and rather than risking a denial to his request for custody, he’d simply made things happen by calling in whatever favors he might have needed to call in.
If he had taken that course, I supposed I should be grateful. He’d been a good dad. We’d had a good life. We’d been a team, the two of us. A bonded pair who’d bravely faced whatever life had thrown at us. I knew that no matter what else happened in my life, as long as I had him, I had someone.
And then he died.
And then I was alone.
And then the world which had seemed so full of potential had suddenly been sucked into a black hole where only unanswered questions survived.
Picking up my pace as the trail leveled, I made my way along a shallow stream that I was willing to bet was much wider and deeper after a rain. The stream wound its way through the forest floor, providing much-needed moisture to the ferns that grew along its banks. The ferns, in turn, along with the vine maples, provided a quilt of fall color.
As the trail left the forest and entered the meadow, I slowed. Deciding to walk for a bit and enjoy the feel of the sun on my face, I continued north along the trail I hoped would take me to the house. I really had no idea what I’d do once I reached the house. It wasn’t like I could just knock on the door and ask to take a tour of the place. I didn’t even have the photo with me. Perhaps I should have thought to grab it.
And then I thought about the photos I’d seen of Adam Winchester during my research. Rich, sophisticated, most likely snobbish and entitled. No, a man like that was better met for the first time looking a little more pulled together than I currently presented. Every photo I’d seen of him featured him in a suit, looking dapper and ready to meet the queen if need be. I decided that if and when I was fortunate enough to meet Adam Winchester, I wouldn’t be wearing shorts and a sweatshirt dampened by sweat while sporting a ponytail that had fallen and twisted to the side.
After the dogs and I had been walking for about forty minutes, we came to a black fence made of iron. The fence was at least ten feet tall with spaced bars that allowed for a clear view of the forest on the other side. The fence looked sturdy, and I didn’t notice a gate of any sort, so it seemed unlikely there was a way to access the property from the backside of the estate. I supposed it made sense that a property such as the Winchester Estate would be protected by a fence to keep trespassers such as myself out. I stood at the fence for a good ten minutes, simply peeking through, hoping to catch a glimpse of someone or something, before turning and jogging off the way I’d come.
Once the dogs and I arrived back at the cottage, I gave them food and water and then headed to the shower. My plan for the day was to go back into town. I wanted to visit Hank’s Hardware and pick up the paint and other supplies I’d need to begin to freshen things up, and I also needed to shop for groceries since I had never gone back for any and my cupboards were as empty as they ever were. Perhaps I’d even take a walk around the charming little town. The boardwalk area had been packed over the weekend, but I was willing to bet that a Monday during the off-season would be another situation entirely.
After drying my long hair, I let it flow freely down my back. Deciding on worn jeans, a dark green sweater made of soft angora, and black leather boots, I grabbed my shoulder bag and headed toward the footpath that would take me to my SUV. As predicted, the touristy section of town along the boardwalk was all but deserted today. After parking along the curb, I stopped at a cute frozen yogurt shop and bought a small cup with half blackberry and half strawberry. I decided to skip the toppings, preferring the tartness of the berries without the added sweetness of the mini M&M’s I sometimes indulged in, and set off down the boardwalk side of the street.
The wooden walkway had been so crowded as to prevent the normal flow of foot traffic when I’d come into town on that first day, but today, the little booths and carts were all closed. I supposed they were only open on weekends during the off-season. It made sense that the daily crowds that could be found in the summer would drop off dramatically once school started up for the year. I was sorry to have missed checking out the wares for sale, but walking slowly down a deserted boardwalk eating my yogurt was nice as well. The view of the bay and the surrounding forest was amazing no matter where you stood along the waist-high railing that separated the water from the walkway. The boardwalk hugged the waterline for several miles until the bay opened up to Mystic Harbor, and the boardwalk gave way to rows of docks that both professional fishermen and sports enthusiasts used.
Many of the larger fishing boats that had been docked over the weekend were out on the water, leaving rows upon rows of mostly empty slips. I imagined it was fascinating to watch the boats come in at the end of the day. There was a café named Mystic Café that was perched at the end of the main wharf. I’d make a point to come down one day this week in the late afternoon and have a drink as the boats returned to the marina and unloaded their catch of the day.
Once I reached the end of the boardwalk, I crossed the street and walked back toward my SUV on the other side. The mom and pop shops that lined this particular section of town had been decked out for Halloween, and most merchants seemed to be busy today, taking down ghosts and spider webs, in favor of décor with more of a Thanksgiving feel. If I’d been on holiday, I would have stopped to look through each shop, but I really did want to get my errands done before it was time t
o join the others for dinner, so I hurried on past, finishing off my yogurt as I walked.
After I returned to my car, I decided to head to Hank’s Hardware Store. Hope had said it was just across from the Rambling Rose, so it shouldn’t be hard to find. My goal today was to pick up both paint and painting supplies such as stripper and primer, brushes and rollers, as well as something that would allow me to reseal and refinish the hardwood floors. I was looking forward to getting my hands dirty and really digging into the project. I felt like I’d been living in a haze of sorts since my dad died. Even if my stay in Gooseberry Bay was only going to be a temporary one, I was happy to have found a place where I felt settled.
“Can I help you?” an older man of medium height and weight asked after I walked in through the front door of the hardware store.
“My name is Ainsley. Hope sent me. Are you Hank?” I asked.
His blue eyes, faded with age, twinkled. “I am.” He stuck out a hand. “I’m happy to meet you. Hope tells me you’re going to do some work on Bucky’s cottage.”
“I am. Hope was kind enough to allow my dogs and me to move in, so I felt the least I could do was to help her brighten the place up a bit.” I picked up a popular decorating magazine and considered the photo on the cover. “This looks a lot like Gooseberry Bay.”
He nodded. “The folks from that magazine were in town over the summer to do a photoshoot. This may be a small town, but we have a lot of rich folks who have summer homes in the area, so there are some real showplaces worthy of the feature.”
I set the magazine on the counter. I figured I’d buy it along with my supplies. It might be fun to have a look at some of the homes in the area.
“Hope and I have discussed colors for the cottage in the past. I assume you’re okay with her selections?” Hank asked.
