Taken

by Dee Henderson

  “Let me know if you need to brainstorm further. Oh, and tell Shannon if she wants to do me a serious favor, would she mind taking Black with her? My dog hates fireworks with a passion. Getting him out of Chicago for that weekend would be giving him a major vacation. And me a good deal of peace of mind.”

  Matthew laughed. “Yeah, I can see that. I’ll mention it to her. Tell Paul thanks for letting me interrupt your evening.”

  “He likes that you call him even when you just need to pass off to me . . . just saying. It’s classy of you.”

  “He got the ring on your finger. He’s your guy. It’s only right he knows when and why I’m taking up your time.”

  “Yeah. Like I said . . . it’s nice of you. Say hi to Shannon for me.”

  “I will. Thanks, Ann.”

  He ended the call, thoughtful. He hadn’t realized Ann had picked up on it, but she was right. When he could, he spoke first with Paul before he contacted Ann. They were a couple, and he’d shifted how he interacted with her to reflect that.

  24

  Shannon had asked to see the ocean. Matthew chose to take her to one of his favorite beaches. He pulled into the parking area just off a local road, which could accommodate six cars. They were the only ones there this early in the day. She pushed open the car door with a soft laugh. “It’s wonderful!”

  Soon she was heading down the path worn in the grass. The sand stretched almost a mile before boulders cut off the cove. He walked at a more leisurely pace down the incline. She’d stopped, hands in her pockets, about a foot from the high waterline of the breaking waves, gazing out at the expanse of ocean.

  Still and quiet for a long time, a slight smile on her face, Shannon finally glanced over at him. “It’s good to see the ocean again.”

  “I can tell you love it. I literally see you relaxing just standing there.”

  “This is my idea of heaven on earth—sand, sun, and sea. There’s a verse somewhere in the Bible, in Jeremiah, I think. ‘Do you not fear me? says the Lord; do you not tremble before me? I placed the sand as a boundary for the sea, a perpetual barrier that it cannot pass; though the waves toss, they cannot prevail, though they roar, they cannot pass over it.’” She smiled as she finished. “Standing here is a huge reminder of the God I love. The ocean is vast. Big. Powerful. It’s free. I love that. And it’s contained where it belongs by God. I love the ocean for what it is, and for what it tells me about my God.”

  “It’s big,” he agreed, and she laughed. “Want to walk?”

  “Sure.”

  She set out beside him.

  Her hand slipped into his, and he glanced over, then entwined their fingers, welcoming the connection. They walked a good stretch of the beach in silence, her attention on the waves coming into the shore.

  He knew it was going to disturb the moment but had no choice. He took a breath, asked as casually as he could, “Could you show me the location on the East Coast that the family used as a home base? Maybe do that tomorrow?”

  Shannon gave him a sharp look. “Tomorrow?”

  “The farm is known now. Chain of evidence means Paul needs to lock down the other property soon.”

  She weighed her answer. “Do I have to walk through the property? Can I just give you enough to direct the police with warrants to the right place?”

  “I’ll keep it as brief as I can for you.”

  She kicked up sand. “It’s not far. Could we do that this morning, get it over with, then maybe come back here so I can get in a swim?”

  Her suggestion surprised him. He hadn’t realized it was so close by. “Sure. But as for swimming . . . the water is still awfully cool this far north. It’s not like swimming in the Gulf or off the coast of Florida.”

  “You can act as my lifeguard. I won’t go out far, only swim parallel to the shore once I’m past the breaking waves.”

  “If you don’t mind the temperature, we can come back to this beach,” he agreed.

  “Then let’s get that visit over with.” Shannon turned so they could walk back to the car. “Has Paul said much? Has there been any activity since the photos were released?”

  “A few sightings in Colorado are interesting. Nothing definite yet,” Matthew replied.

  She didn’t ask a follow-up question, and he didn’t offer more details. He knew she wouldn’t rest easy until those who could cause her harm were in custody. She needed results, but hearing the play-by-play as the case unfolded wouldn’t help her any. Eighteen people needed to be found and arrested in as short order as possible. Shannon had done her part. Now it was up to Paul and his team to finish the job. A week, Matthew thought, to make the arrests, maybe two. Shannon had given them such a wealth of information it was only a matter of time. He swung her hand lightly in his. “You should think about doing a charity swim later this year, one of those where you swim for distance or time and sponsors put up money for the charity based on how you do.”

  “Would you be one of my sponsors?”

  “If you’re looking for a hundred bucks per mile, I don’t know if I could afford it.”

  She laughed. “So it’s like a marathon for swimmers, with the proceeds going to a charity?”

  He nodded. “They typically have a few events in August when the water temperature rises. Just something to think about.”

  “An interesting idea. Thanks for mentioning it.”

  He wanted to find a few things she’d enjoy that he could get on her calendar. Normal things she’d find fun to do.

  He unlocked the car. “We’re heading north?”

  “Yes.”

  The ocean winds were carrying enough sand aloft that Matthew could hear the grit occasionally strike the car’s windshield. Beaches and rocky cliffs and open ocean provided the immediate view to the east along this stretch of highway.

  “You’ll want to pull off the road at the next overlook,” Shannon instructed. “That’s their second home base ahead on the right. We’ll pass it in a moment.”

  A hanging metal sign swinging over the entrance read in sprawling script, Hennessey and Vine. “There?”

  “Yes, but pass by it for now. We’re tourists today.” A quarter mile past the sign was an official viewing spot above the expanse of water, and she directed him to turn in and park near a wooden platform. She stepped up onto it, and he joined her. The sound of the ocean surging over rocks and the whistling wind coming up the cliff face made it feel as though they were as close to the elements as they could get and still remain safe. They were high enough in elevation that they could see most of the property she had indicated.

  Shannon pointed to a building in the distance. “That’s the main house. There are five homes around what is basically a long circle drive. They all used to belong to one family called Hennessey; they were lobster fishermen. They made a nice living and protected this stretch of beachfront with a jealous eye for other fishermen dropping pots. The Vines were merchants. A deal between the families, a few marriages, and that sign got crafted. The two families built up this area. The way I heard it, most in the family got sick the same winter. The illness killed four of the men, left six unable to do the heavy labor of hauling lobster pots, and the remaining two couldn’t keep the operation afloat. The Jacobys bought them out, homes and boats—the whole place—but never changed the sign.”

  “When was this?”

  “Twenty years ago, I think. The Jacobys were settled here when I arrived. I spent the majority of the last eleven years around this place when I wasn’t on the road. I took most of my photos down along that cove.” She pointed to the quiet waters inland from the point. “No one’s on the property at the moment, based on what I can see. They’ve closed up this place, similar to the farm. The storm shutters are up. The break walls are closed to prevent a surge from destroying the boathouse. The cars are gone, including the three motorbikes they kept set aside for easy access just behind that second house. The property looks deserted. And no one in the family would risk coming back here once wor
d went out to disappear.”

  Matthew couldn’t detect any movement anywhere around the property either and concluded she was no doubt right. “Where did you stay when you were here?”

  “The main house, second floor, back room. I liked that I could see the ocean.”

  “How many stolen goods are going to be found on this property?”

  “Only a fraction of what is at the farm. They considered this site vulnerable to wind and tide, plus unwelcome neighbors coming by, trying to be helpful after a bad storm. They liked this place but didn’t do much business here. I really don’t want to walk the property and point things out. I’d prefer to let you call in the location of this place, and we be on our way.”

  “That suits me, Shannon.” He made a call to Paul with the GPS location and description of the property. “Anything of yours here you would like retrieved?”

  “What’s on the dresser in that back room would be some of my keepsakes—shells I gathered, figurines I won at the county fair, that kind of thing. My fingerprints will be in lipstick on the back of the bathroom mirror, and a few other similar marks. More proof I was here.”

  “Where did Flynn and his wife stay?”

  “That first house with the swing set in the side yard. He stored most of his wife and son’s things in the second-level bedroom. See the two windows close together? It would be . . . kind if the detectives would keep that room’s contents together until all this is resolved. I’d hate to see her wedding dress stuffed in a box or his son’s baseball glove tossed out. A few things stored there would matter to Flynn a great deal.”

  Matthew could understand the sentiment. He took several photos of the entrance sign and the buildings and forwarded them on to Paul, briefed him on what Shannon had shared, then listened in as Paul held a conference call with the FBI agents who would execute the warrant, and to the state cops who would secure the perimeter. Matthew put his phone away. “We’re good, Shannon. Paul has what he needs.”

  “I’d like to swim now, forget about this place—in fact, not think about much of anything for the rest of the day.”

  He placed a friendly arm across her shoulders. “A big ocean awaits you.” He peered down at the waves crashing into the base of the cliff. “But let’s go somewhere the ocean is in a milder mood than here,” he added. “And a little warmer wouldn’t hurt either.”

  She laughed and reached up to settle her hand over his. “The water’s in a playful mood today. That stretch of your favorite beach is quieter, just whispering.”

  “You’ve spent a lot of time looking at the ocean.”

  “Watching it, swimming in it, trying to capture its expressions in photos—yes. The ocean was the only thing I ever saw the Jacobys fear. I found that revealing.”

  With the sun hot overhead, Matthew carried folding chairs down to the beach. Shannon was pulling off the shirt she’d worn over her swimsuit.

  “Stay out of the water till I get back from the car with the towels and the tote bag,” he told her. “I’ll start a fire in the ring so we can cook a few hot dogs and you can warm up when you’re done.”

  “Sure. I’d like that.”

  When he returned, she hit the water and headed out fifty yards before beginning to swim along the shore. Matthew watched the power in those strokes, the steadiness in her pacing, and understood why a small pool frustrated her so much. She’d trained herself for long-distance swims. She stayed within his sight, reversing directions when needed.

  He was waiting with a thick oversized towel when she came out of the water, plus a blanket to wrap in. The fire kicked off enough heat for her chilly hands. She looked . . . happy, he thought, in a way she hadn’t been since he met her. She accepted a water bottle, drank thirstily. He was remembering all the references in her diaries to having been for a swim. “How many of those eleven years did you spend in the water?”

  She smiled. “I was in the water every minute I could.”

  She sat by the fire and hugged her knees. “That first time they pushed me overboard to drown, I decided I wasn’t going to let it happen. I might drown, but it wasn’t going to be from fear of the water or from not having the will to swim. I was exhausted and deeply relieved when Flynn convinced them to haul me back aboard, but from then on I went back in the water every opportunity I had. The sea and I became friends. I used to swim beside the boat for hours when we were out at sea. I wanted that endurance, knew I would need it one day. The ocean was my own world. Peaceful. I didn’t have to think about anything in particular. The sea was good to me.”

  She pulled the blanket tighter. “When we were traveling, I’d swim whenever I could talk Flynn into driving near a beach. He accommodated me, mostly because I was a good driver, careful, and it gave him time to do more of his own business. If I was at the wheel through the night, we could make up time between expected check-in stops.”

  Matthew simply listened and learned. “His wife and son didn’t travel with him?”

  “The family controlled Flynn in their own way, just as they controlled me. His wife and son rarely traveled with him. If he’d struck out on his own, his wife would pay the price.”

  “Did you feel sorry for him?”

  “No, not really. He came into the family because he was a thief, a very good one. He had been selling items directly to them instead of through a broker. That’s how he met his wife. She’d often be the buyer, and they started secretly dating. In Flynn’s defense, I don’t think he understood the violence in the family until it was too late. She was pregnant, the family agreed he could marry her, join them, and only when he was already entangled and on the road with them did he realize the violence threading through their way of operating.”

  Matthew absorbed the information, tucking it away. For Shannon, Flynn was going to be a difficult issue. Paul would likely cut the best deal he could for Flynn in exchange for testimony against the others, but there was little doubt the man would spend the next twenty to thirty years in prison when this was over. Matthew knew he’d need to talk to Shannon about that at some point, but not today. This hour, the ocean, the swim, the calm of this place—all of it was everything he had hoped for her. A few hours of peace. She needed this day.

  They ate hot dogs topped with mustard on fresh buns, stayed put until the sun began to lower in the sky, the breeze off the ocean no longer holding the warmth of the sun to push back its chill. Matthew rose, put out the fire, and gathered their things. “Why don’t you take a last walk on the beach while I put this stuff in the car?”

  Shannon nodded and slid into her shoes, walked down to where the waves were rolling calmly onto the sand. She turned to stroll north, her face lifted to the fading light of the day.

  When she returned, she said, “Thank you,” and slipped her hand into his.

  He gave her a brief hug, turned her toward the car. “You’re very welcome.” He walked with her through the grass to the parking area. “Let’s talk about tomorrow. How does being a tourist sound?”

  She laughed. “Delightful.”

  25

  Matthew indulged her Friday morning. They walked down to Boston Harbor, shopping for small gifts in craft booths, angled back toward the historical district. Shortly after eleven, Shannon pointed out a coffee shop. They were parked nearby, and he thought a drive down the coast for lunch would be a good plan. After he’d placed their coffee orders, she touched his arm. “Buy a third one. Black and sweet.” He shot her a look but added it to the order.

  “Let’s take them with us,” Shannon suggested when the three coffees were ready. The coffee shop provided a cardboard carrier, and Shannon took all three drinks to the car.

  Matthew held the passenger door for her as she slid inside, balancing the carrier, and secured her seat belt. He didn’t move from where he stood beside her open door. “Where are we heading?”

  “Let’s take Highway 9 north.”

  He studied her upturned face for a moment, but she said nothing more. He nodded and closed her
door, circled the car and settled behind the wheel, checked traffic, and maneuvered into the correct lane for Highway 9. “I don’t mind secrecy, Shannon, but not when it’s meeting someone I don’t know, in a place I don’t know. Talk to me, please.”

  “I haven’t called anyone. I’m simply hoping I might find someone where we’re going.”

  “Who would that be?”

  She avoided his question. “An open, public area. A conversation. That’s all I’m hoping for. If you don’t like the situation when we get there, I’ll listen and back off.”

  Someone she knew who had worked with the family or been affiliated with the family, that much seemed certain. She hadn’t deliberately caused a problem to date, but Matthew could feel her skirting around something she knew he wouldn’t like. He turned on the radio, found a music station, idly wondering if the coffee would be cold by the time they arrived. Or maybe she’d taken that into account when she pointed out the coffee shop.

  Fifteen minutes later, she pointed. “See the church steeple? Aim toward the cemetery on the north side. It’s extensive, almost the size of a large park. The north side has the easiest parking access.”

  Another cemetery. He actually wasn’t surprised. It was becoming a habit with her. He found a parking place.

  Shannon exited the car. “Let’s walk.” She handed him his coffee and carried hers and the extra coffee with her.

  Many of the cemetery’s headstones had flower baskets or flags, most stones in this section showing only a decade or two of being exposed to the weather. He followed her across the neatly mown grass. She eventually paused by a headstone for three plots, two names with dates chiseled into the granite: Karen Rose Barrows and Taylor James Barrows. Both had died three years ago . . . today.

  “Flynn’s wife and son.”

  He shot Shannon a sharp look.

  She left the third coffee on the headstone. “There’s a bench by the pond. Let’s have a seat, enjoy the sun. Most times I visited here in the past were in poor weather with rain showers. I’d like to just sit for a while.”