Realm of Shadows

by Eldon Farrell

  “And these tides can occur anywhere then?”

  “They can but, normally they’re found in coastal waters close to shore.”

  Chase frowns at him. “Still and all that mate I can tell by the look on your face that you don’t believe these tides are the culprit here.”

  Zipping his bag up he replies, “You said it yourself yesterday Paul; where are the bodies?”

  “Good question that.” Chase angles his neck to the side to look at the front door behind Tyler. After a moment he motions him to come closer dropping his voice.

  “I been hearing our escorts talk and the locals too last night. They keep mentioning a lost colony in connection to this island.”

  Sitting on his own bed facing Chase, Tyler mutters “Roanoke.”

  “What’s that mate?”

  Tyler stares obscurely at him for a moment. Just like yesterday he again feels a nagging pull in his brain. It’s like there’s an important clue he’s missing but can’t quite put his finger on.

  Finally he shakes free of his haze saying, “You’ve never heard of Roanoke?”

  “Never. What is it?”

  “OK,” Tyler draws out the first syllable before saying, “First some background. On 27 April 1584, Sir Walter Raleigh, acting under the auspices of a charter he received from Queen Elizabeth I granting him rights of colonization to the area of modern day Virginia, dispatched an expedition to explore that area.

  “Now consider that this was before settlements at Plymouth or Jamestown—Roanoke was the first British colony in North America. The expedition was led by Philip Amadas and Arthur Barlowe and they arrived at Roanoke Island on 4 July 1585.”

  “No shit,” Chase comments, “July 4.”

  “Just a coincidence I’m sure,” Tyler says before returning to his narrative. “Barlowe would return with 2 local natives known as Croatoans to England so that they would help him describe the politics and geography of the area to Raleigh. Based on this information, Raleigh sent a second expedition led by Sir Richard Grenville.”

  “You sure know a lot about this mate.”

  “I did a dissertation on the topic. Now stop interrupting,” Tyler admonishes. “The truth that by all accounts did not get conveyed to Raleigh was that relations with the natives were strained at best.

  “After an initial exploration of the mainland coast and the surrounding native settlements, the inhabitants of the village of Aquascogoc were blamed for stealing a silver cup and in retaliation the village was sacked and burned. This would prove to be a crucial mistake for the colonists in the years to follow.

  “Despite the bad blood they engendered with their savagery and a general lack of food, Grenville left Ralph Lane in charge of 107 colonists to establish a settlement at the north end of Roanoke Island.

  “He promised to return in April 1586 with more men and fresh supplies. But April 1586 came and went with no sign of Grenville’s relief fleet. No doubt seeing that the colonists were weakened and still angry over the ‘silver cup’ incident, the natives attacked the fort.

  “The men were able to repel the attack but when Sir Francis Drake paused on his way home from a successful raid of the Caribbean and offered to take the weary colonists home they gladly accepted.

  “Now as fate would have it the promised relief fleet did arrive only shortly after Drake departed with the colonists. Finding the colony abandoned, Grenville returned with the bulk of his forces to England leaving only a small party behind to maintain a claim to the land.

  “Then, in 1587 Raleigh dispatched another expedition this time led by John White to establish a colony on Chesapeake Bay. He ordered the men to travel first to Roanoke to gather the men Grenville left behind but when they arrived on 22 July 1587 they found nothing but a skeleton that may or may not have been the remains of the English garrison.”

  “So that’s the Lost Colony then?”

  Shaking his head, Tyler continues, “No; we’re coming to that. Understand that White’s men were counting on the garrison to help in establishing a new colony. At this point the colonists made another crucial error.

  “The fleet’s commander, one Simon Fernandez, for reasons that to this day remain a mystery refused to allow the men back into the boats and insisted that they remain and re-establish the Roanoke colony.

  “With little other choice, White tried unsuccessfully to re-establish relations with the tribes that Lane had battled a year earlier. The colonists prior mistakes—notably the destruction of Aquascogoc—came home to roost and White found no quarter with the natives.

  “A short time later a colonist was killed in open aggression by a native causing the remaining colonists, in fear for their lives, to persuade White to return to England and relay the desperate situation they were facing.

  “White sailed in late 1587—a dangerous time to cross the Atlantic—and his return trip was besieged by delays. First, the captain refused to sail back in the winter. Then the outbreak of further hostilities between England and Spain left no seaworthy vessels available for the task.

  “The continuing war with Spain forced the delay of a return trip until 1590. When he finally landed back at Roanoke he found the settlement deserted. His men found no trace of the 90 men, 17 women, and 11 children that he left behind three years earlier.

  “They found no sign of struggle or battle. All they did find was the word Croatoan carved into a post or tree depending on the telling. Now before he had left White instructed the colonists to carve a Maltese cross on a nearby tree if they befell trouble. The absence of this clue led White to conclude that his men had moved to Croatoan Island of their own volition.

  “Unfortunately a massive storm was brewing and his crew refused to search any further. They left the next day and the fate of the Lost Colony has never been uncovered.”

  “Kind of anti-climactic mate,” Chase remarks, “The way people whisper about it I thought it’d be spookier.”

  “The truth gets lost in the legend,” Tyler says, “Everyone has their own theory about what happened simply because no one can say with certainty what did befall the colony. I’ve heard that the colony simply left and settled in Chesapeake Bay; White’s original destination.

  “Others claim the whole colony was killed by disease; patently ridiculous when you consider the houses had been taken down and no bodies were found. Still others say that a hurricane leveled the colony, or they insinuated themselves into the native tribes, or even that the natives slaughtered them. Everyone has an opinion.”

  “Any of those opinions deal with a red tide then?”

  “Certainly,” Tyler concedes, “But it’s important to understand that much of the lore surrounding Roanoke is embellished. People think of it in terms of the entire colony simply vanishing into thin air when the reality is that to make a journey to England and back in those days could take many months if you could find funding for the trip—longer if you couldn’t.

  “The people of Roanoke had plenty of time to simply pull up stakes and abandon the settlement for any number of reasons. It didn’t have to be spooky or supernatural.”

  “And what about Hope mate?” Chase nods in the direction of the ocean, “You think it could be supernatural?”

  “You serious?”

  “Don’t knock it mate. Whatever happened out there right now is beyond explaining. People may have disappeared easily back in 1590 but today? Don’t you find it odd that no one heard from anybody on that island?

  “No phone calls, no e-mails, no text messages, nothing. That seems like a quick disappearance to me mate. And what natural could cause that?

  “There are homes over there with the tables set for dinner. Food right there ready for the eating and no people. Don’t know about you but it gives me the wiggins mate.”

  Tyler can feel his skin tingling and not just from imagining the scene Chase is describing. “I thought you’ve never been to Hope.”

  The knock on the door startles both of them and they turn to see a sold
ier standing in the doorway. “Time to go.”

  Chase rises first, placing his hand on Tyler’s shoulder and saying, “See you over there mate.”

  His question unanswered, Tyler reluctantly follows him out of the room and into the unknown.

  Chapter 17

  Atlanta, Georgia

  “Once more from the top; tell me again why we’re back where we started from?”

  With a cocky grin, Caleb glances over at Hal. They’re standing in the sitting room of Ryan Heath’s house in almost the exact spot they stood over twenty-four hours ago.

  “OK,” Caleb nods, “I thought about it all last night.”

  “While you were drinking,” Hal comments, “I can smell that booze coming out of your pores Cal.”

  “I had a couple of drinks yes,” his voice tightens as he proclaims; “But it’s under control.”

  “I disagree but…let’s move on.”

  “The Tolkien riddle,” Caleb begins, “The fact that we found it inside an egg and it references an egg seemed to indicate circular logic. But it wouldn’t make any sense for Heath to lead us that far only to give us nothing more to go on. He had to be pointing us somewhere else.”

  “Are you asking a question or trying to ascribe logic to the mind of a killer?”

  Ignoring the question Caleb carries on, “Then it hit me. Right here in his home there’s an egg that’s out of place.”

  Pointing to the mantle he says, “Ever since I first saw that Faberge Egg I wondered why it would be here. It certainly isn’t something I would see Heath owning—unless it served a purpose we were unaware of.”

  “You think that this is the egg that golden treasure inside of is hid.”

  “Yeah, and I aim to find out what that treasure is right now.”

  “Wait Cal!” Hal blurts out, “It could be rigged. We need to call in—”

  “Don’t even say it,” Caleb objects, “We’re not calling in the bomb squad again to waste a few more hours. He’s had Lynne for over a month now. No more fucking around!”

  “Cal.”

  “No Hal,” he insists, “The forensic team went over every inch of this place. If there was a bomb here don’t you think they’d have found it?”

  “They weren’t looking for bombs Cal,” Hal hardens his voice, “And at any rate, we’re FBI, we have protocols to follow and that means calling in the bomb squad.”

  “I’m not FBI!”

  The ferocity of the declaration startles Hal into an uncomfortable silence. After a beat Caleb elaborates, “Not right now anyway. I’ve been suspended from active duty remember? And that means I don’t have protocols to follow.”

  Hal hears him step toward the fireplace and yells, “Don’t Cal!”

  But he’s too late; in one swift motion Caleb lifts the egg off of its stand. Turning it over in his hands he’s surprised by the weight of it.

  “Did you hear that?”

  Looking at Hal, he asks, “Hear what?”

  “It…” Hal furrows his brow in concentration as he says, “It sounded like a click. You picked up the egg didn’t you?”

  “You’re letting your imagination run away with you Hal. There was no click. Calm down; you know there was nothing in your profile to suggest this guy would use bombs.”

  “There was nothing to suggest he wouldn’t either.”

  Taking a step toward the front window Hal asks, “Do you hear that? It’s a…faint hissing noise.”

  Shaking his head Caleb dismisses him, “I don’t hear anything and it’s time to find out what’s inside this egg.”

  “Wait!” Hal’s desperation shines through as he says, “Do you smell that? It smells like gas.”

  “Forget it Hal,” Caleb discards his concerns, “I don’t smell anything either.”

  “Don’t smash that egg Cal!” Dread coursing through him Hal screams, “CAL!” as the egg slips through parted fingers and collides with the floor smashing to pieces on contact.

  Outside the home, Tommy Drayton is placing his jacket inside the cruiser parked by the front lawn while all of this is happening. He doesn’t hear the raised voices or the sound of the egg shattering or even the slow steady hiss of a gas leak.

  Walking back across the lawn to his posting by the front door he hears nothing until he feels a rush of air being drawn into the home and then a deafening boom as the gas ignites.

  The concussion wave of the explosion sends him flying backward into the side of his cruiser so hard that the driver side window cracks on impact. Fire pours out of the home through broken windows and the space where the front door used to be.

  Blinking rapidly Tommy watches as the peak over the front door collapses across the front step. “Shit,” he curses.

  With his ears still ringing from the blast he pulls himself up and reaches into the car for his radio.

  “OFFICERS DOWN!” he screams into the mic, “OFFICERS DOWN! SEND…FIRE AND…RESCUE. There’s…explosion…the Toymaker’s…”

  …Home.

  Lionel was right; I don’t think I’ve truly been home since I left for Washington over a month ago. Shaking his head he wonders if it could only be a month—it seems like so much longer.

  Standing in the quiet foyer, Roger gathers up his courage before calling up the stairs, “Miriam! I’m…home.”

  Hearing her footsteps through the ceiling he dashes into the living room and over to their stereo system. Flipping through their CD collection he finds the disk he’s looking for and slips it in to play.

  The first chords of ‘Feels Like Home’ by Randy Newman are just beginning to play when she appears at the foot of the stairs. Your favorite song; you see I do still know you.

  Her hand goes to her mouth as she hears it and sees him looking at her.

  Purposefully striding towards her he takes her into a fervent embrace eliciting a gasp from her. Holding her tightly he rests his chin on her shoulder and smells the old familiar scent of her shampoo. The flood of memories this unleashes within him waters his eyes.

  “Roger,” she breathes before he releases her and gently places his finger to her lips.

  “Let me talk,” he says, “I want to make this place feel like home to you again. I don’t want to pretend for a night that our troubles aren’t there; I want to face them together. I don’t want one night of bliss—I want the rest of our lives. And so…we need to talk.”

  Choking up for a moment he smiles nervously as he wipes the tears from both his own and Miriam’s cheeks.

  “I…I’m so sorry for the way I’ve been…for pushing you away, for not talking, for everything.”

  “Roger.”

  “Please,” he holds his palms up to her saying, “Let me get this out first. He’s going to get away with it—Tait. The judge ruled there was insufficient evidence. I know you told me so many times that you didn’t care about seeing him go to prison; that it didn’t matter to you but I wouldn’t believe it.

  “I couldn’t believe it. Seeing justice done was all I thought I had to give you. It…it was all I could do to make up for letting you…get hurt so bad. I threw myself into the hunt for justice and…avoided you because no matter what you said I knew you had to hate me.”

  “Oh Roger.”

  “How could you not? When we got married I promised that I would never let anything hurt you and I broke that promise.” Tears rim his eyes and slide down his cheeks as he starts to repeat, “All I had to do…all I had to do…”

  Moving to him she places her hand tenderly on his cheek saying, “Is that really what you think Roger? I could never hate you. And I don’t blame you at all for what happened to me. Listen to me my love; it wasn’t your fault.”

  He collapses into her arms, resting his cheek against her bosom as she strokes his head. After a time she whispers, “I can’t believe that’s why you’ve been so distant.”

  Lifting his head he stares at her asking, “Why did you think I was?”

  Trembling slightly she answers, “I thought you�
��stopped loving me.”

  Eyes widening in shock he asks, “Why?”

  “Because,” she starts, “Because of…what I told you…in the ambulance. You became so cold, so withdrawn, when we got home, I-I thought you blamed me for us never having had a family.”

  “We have a family.” He kisses her forehead saying, “You’re my family. I could never blame you or hate you for what you did. You did what you thought was right. You did what you thought was best for us. You couldn’t have known how it would turn out. It’s not your fault.”

  Tears spill over her lashes as a warm feeling she hasn’t felt in weeks’ washes over her. All the lonely nights, all the missed conversations, all the pain she’s had to endure recently is worth it for this moment.

  Reaching out to him she grabs her man—her Roger—and knows that she finally has him back. “If you’re going to forgive me,” she whispers in his ear, “Then you have to forgive yourself too. You did what you thought was right in Toronto and I was never prouder of you for it.”

  Together they collapse on the sofa holding each other and talking long after the song has been spent.

  The bleak mid-winter of their relationship has been endured and they’ve survived. Wrapped in each other’s arms they gather strength while on the horizon trouble far worse than anything they’ve seen so far is gathering.

  Absently Miriam’s hand slides to her left side and the discomfort that dwells there.

  Chapter 18

  En Route to North Carolina

  Seated on the right side of the cabin, three rows from the front of the half full 747, Cole Hewitt is busy poring over his notes. In his ear he can hear the constant hum of the engines threatening to carry him off to a fitful sleep. He’s never traveled well—cars, buses, planes—since he was a child riding in any of them easily caused him to nod off.

  And after the long day he’s had he knows it won’t take much for him to pass out. Rubbing at his temples he reaches out for his coffee again to try and perk up.