Kindred Spirits

by D J Monroe

  Again, the old man nodded.

  Nate hesitated as if unsure or worried about bringing up the real reason for their visit. “Dad, we’ve already found something a little strange but you shut down on me when I asked about it,” Nate reminded him.

  “The camera.”

  The minute he said the words, Creed saw the man’s eyes turn a steel blue color. But there was something else there as well. Pain? Regret? He wasn’t sure but it had his attention.

  The old man took a deep breath and looked out the window. “I had a sister. Your Aunt Tammy,” Nate’s dad began. His lips curled up slightly when he said her name.

  TP Creed thought.

  Nate pulled one of the kitchen chairs from the nearby dining table closer to his dad and sat down. Creed remained standing, not wanting to miss a single moment of this story.

  “I was two when she was born. Our father died the month before. My mother always told us she had the gift of second sight because she’d never seen her father.”

  “Was that true?” Creed asked. He’d heard that before.

  Nate’s dad shrugged. “Tammy was pretty and lively and fun. Had a million girlfriends. They were always over at our house giggling and laughing.”

  “Why have I not heard about her before?” Nate asked.

  There was that hard, cold look again.

  “She disappeared,” Everett Palmer said, his shoulders slumping.

  “Disappeared?”

  “Went to babysit for a neighbor a few streets over. A doctor. She was supposed to call at nine, you know, just to check in and let Mom know she was okay. But she never called.”

  Creed placed a hand on Nate’s shoulder willing him to be quiet. They had to let the old man tell the story in his own time, his own way.

  “Mom thought maybe she just forgot or something and gave her another hour. When she didn’t call at ten, Mom called the doctor’s house. There was no answer.”

  As he talked, his voice softened and a faraway look came into his eyes.

  “I worked my shift at the Dairy Rite that night and then hung out with some friends after I got off work. When I got home at eleven Mom was beside herself. She asked me and your grandfather to go over there and make sure Tammy was okay. So, we did.”

  “And she was gone?” Nate guessed.

  His dad nodded. “We found one of her shoes on the stairs leading up to the bedrooms. The police found her broken glasses in the yard. Other than that, she was just gone.”

  “The children?” Creed couldn’t help but wonder aloud.

  Nate’s dad shook his head. “Just one. A baby. Sleeping soundly in its crib upstairs.”

  “But you never found Tammy or-”

  Don’t say it. Don’t say body. Creed tried to telegraph these thoughts to Nate.

  “Never,” his dad finally said. “Not a trace of her. Nothing. Like she just disappeared off of the face of the earth.”

  “The police investigated?” Nate asked.

  His dad nodded. “They did their best, I guess. There really were no clues, nothing to go on. In the end, they said she was just another run away teenager and closed the case.”

  “No suspects?”

  “Someone said they saw her boyfriend’s car parked on the street that evening. His name was Butch, something or other. Can’t remember his last name.”

  “Did she and Butch have any problems?”

  “Not really. Anyway, they questioned everyone they could think of including the doctor and his wife. Including me and Charles. But everyone had an alibi.”

  Nate shook his head.

  “Mom never got over it. At some point she resorted to some psychics that said they could help her find Tammy. Seances and such.”

  Creed remembered the presence, the energy that he felt every time he walked into the house. Had Nate’s grandmother accidentally opened up a door to something?

  Sadness crept into Everett Palmer’s eyes and voice again. “My mother went to her grave never knowing what happened to her daughter.”

  “Grandpa?”

  His dad shrugged what had once been broad shoulders. “He was upset as well but your grandpa was a practical man. He knew life had to go on and it did-just without Tammy.”

  “When was this? What year?” Nate asked.

  “Nineteen seventy-three,” he answered.

  “So you would have been, what, seventeen?”

  “Yes. She was fifteen.” Nate’s dad turned to them, this time the tears spilling out of his eyes onto the wrinkled, weathered cheeks. “I was her big brother. I was supposed to take care of her, protect her.”

  “Charles was older than you, right?”

  “Yes, he was eighteen and Judy would have been about ten?”

  Nate and Creed kept quiet while Everett composed himself.

  “Charles took the loss as hard as the rest of us. Spent months searching the woods around town, creeks and rivers. Even after he grew up and started a family of his own, he really never stopped looking for her. Tammy’s disappearance seemed to push the whole family apart.”

  Finally, Creed could not hold back any longer. He hated to do it but father and son had discussed everything except the one thing that had brought all of this to light in the first place.

  “The camera?” Creed asked from where he stood behind Nate.

  Thirteen: The camera

  Everett Palmer took a deep, shaking breath and closed his eyes briefly. Seeing his father like this, vulnerable was the word that came to mind, was something Nate had never seen before.

  When his dad spoke again, he kept his eyes focused on the hands in his lap, gripping each other firmly. “I wasn’t sure if her camera was even still around.”

  “We found it in a box,” Nate explained, something told him to keep quiet about what they’d seen through the camera lens. “I think it’s broken but it had her initials on the bottom. I just wasn’t sure who it belonged to or if it was important enough to keep.”

  “She’d gotten the camera for her birthday that year,” his dad said, shaking his head. “Man, she loved that thing. Took it everywhere with her. Took pictures of everything and everyone. She’d taken it with her that night in particular so she could take pictures of the baby.”

  “So, if she decided to run away she would have taken it with her,” Creed said quietly.

  Nate waited for his dad’s reaction.

  “That was our thoughts,” he said. “The police didn’t seem to think that was the case mostly because her purse was never found.” And then he turned and looked from Nate to Creed. “Was there any film inside?”

  Nate shook his head. “No, it was empty.”

  His dad nodded and looked older and more tired than Nate remembered seeing him.

  “We’d better be going,” Nate said softly. “You look like you’re getting tired.”

  Nate’s dad nodded again, his gaze straying out the window.

  “Don’t get up,” Nate said, gently placing a hand on his slumping shoulder. “We’ll let ourselves out.”

  Again, that slow nod as if he was a million miles away-or was it nineteen seventh-three again?

  Nate didn’t take a full breath again until they were outside, headed for his car.

  “I wasn’t expecting that,” Creed said, as they walked side by side down the walkway.

  “Me either,” Nate said, unlocking the car and sliding behind the wheel. “So what do you think is going on with that camera?”

  “You’re going to think I’m crazy but I think Tammy is trying to tell us something,” Creed answered truthfully.

  Nate started the engine.

  “She’s trying to tell us she didn’t run away,” Creed said. “And I think she trying to show us what really happened.”

  Nate sat there for a moment staring out the windshield. He had to admit that something was going on, something he couldn’t readily explain. But Tammy reaching out from the beyond to ask them for help was something he just couldn’t get his head around. Finally, he
looked at Creed.

  Creed shrugged.

  “It might help Dad come to grips with some of the anger he’s kept bottled up all of these years if we somehow figured out what happened to her,” Nate added.

  “And the step-brother. Was his name Charles?”

  Nate nodded and glanced in the rearview mirror. A car had pulled out behind them, driving much too close. “He has cancer. I think he’s pretty bad off.”

  “He’s the one who inherited all of the money, liquid assets, from your grandpa, right?” Creed asked.

  “Yes. He and his sister, my Aunt Judy.”

  “Your family really isn’t close at all is it?” Creed asked.

  “On the surface, they appear to be but, not really. No. Too many years, too much hurt,” Nate said, almost to himself. The car behind them had backed off somewhat.

  “It would at least bring them some closure,” Creed said.

  “It couldn’t hurt,” Nate said. “But if the police investigated and found nothing how are we going to be able to figure it out after, what forty-five, forty-six years?”

  “That’s a cold case for sure,” Creed said. “But I guess we just start at the beginning. See what we can find out and try to put the clues together. Besides, we have help.”

  “Help?”

  “Tammy and her camera,” Creed said.

  Nate sighed. “I guess we could talk to the obvious suspects ourselves if they’re still alive.”

  When they turned the corner onto the street where the Palmer house stood at the end of the block, Nate was surprised that the car that had been following them turned as well. It slowed and he saw the blinker come on, watched it turn onto a little side street.

  “Let’s do a little searching. See if anyone kept newspaper clippings or anything like that,” Creed said, pulling his attention back to his own driving. “That would at least give us some place to start.”

  “I imagine that they’re there,” Nate said, coming to a stop in the driveway. The thought of the task ahead of them made him tired before he even got started. “Somewhere in that house.”

  The two men sat quietly looking at the house as if the answers might somehow appear in one of the large windows.

  The sound of a car pulling into the driveway behind them, caused Nate to check his mirror. And there it was. The car that had been following them. Now it was close enough for him to see that it contained three, very angry looking people.

  Fourteen: Family Drama

  “Uh oh,” Nate said, not taking his eyes off of the mirror. His two cousins sat in the front seat of the car behind him.

  Nate had hoped he wouldn’t have to deal with them while working on the house. It didn’t look like he was going to get that reprieve.

  “Who is that?” Creed asked.

  “Cousins,” Nate answered, his voice clipped.

  Nate pushed open his car door and stood coming almost toe to toe with Walter, the older of the siblings. With his bull neck and shiny bald head, he looked so much like his Uncle Charles, they could have been twins. Nate was also aware of Creed moving around the front of the car. He immediately felt better when Creed stepped up beside him.

  “We heard you were cleaning out the house to get it ready to sell,” Walter said, thick arms crossed over his barrel chest.

  “Nice to see you, again, too, Walter,” Nate said. “How have you been?”

  Walter did not respond. His dark eyes flicked to Creed and then back to Nate, boring into him relentlessly. A vein throbbed on the side of his face and Nate felt like Walter was trying to look into his soul.

  “This is Creed Autry,” Nate said, by way of introduction. “He’s a friend and aware of the situation.”

  Walter smirked and appeared about to make a snide comment when Nate’s other cousin, Cherry, came to stand beside her brother. She silenced him with a withering glance. With her round glasses and petite build, she looked more like Aunt Judy or his grandma than Nate wanted to admit. She looked even smaller standing next to Walter.

  “Yes, it is good to see you again, Nate,” she said. Her smile did not reach her eyes.

  Nate had the feeling she didn’t back down to Walter or anyone else for that matter.

  “How’s your dad?” Nate asked, remembering that they’d just been talking about Charles with his father.

  “He’s not doing well at all,” Cherry said. “That’s one of the reasons we’re here.”

  Walter remained in his rigid stance, the defiant look in his eyes.

  “I’m sorry,” Nate said, meaning it.

  “Hospice has been called in. The doctors have given him a month or two,” Cherry continued.

  “So your dad’s going to sell this house,” Walter snapped, changing the subject completely.

  “Yes, his health won’t allow him to live here,” Nate said.

  “My dad grew up in this house, too,” Walter said.

  “I understand that. However, your dad and Judy received the liquid assets from Grandpa. He was a smart man. Good at investments. I’m sure they made out well,” Nate said.

  Walter continued to glare at him, grinding his teeth.

  “The house was left to my father. It only seems fair,” Nate said. “Besides, it sounds like your dad’s health wouldn’t allow him to live here either.”

  “It wouldn’t,” Cherry said.

  “Again, I’m sorry,” Nate said. “As soon as we get it cleaned out, it’ll be on the market. If you’d like to buy it-”

  “Any proceeds from this house should be divided into thirds with dad and Aunt Judy getting their fair share of the money from the sale,” Walter said. “It’s their home, too.”

  “Not according to grandpa’s will,” Nate said. He felt as if he was explaining the situation to a child.

  “We’ll see about that,” Walter said, his angry glare turning from Nate to Creed and back to Nate again.

  Was that a threat?

  Before Nate could ask, Walter turned on his heel and strode back to the car. He climbed inside and slammed the door shut.

  That left Cherry standing alone in front of Nate and Creed. “He’s been talking about contesting the will,” she finally said. “But, in all honesty, Nate, it’s not about the money.”

  “I understand. Cherry, if we find anything of value that belongs to your dad or Aunt Judy, we’ll make sure it gets to you,” Nate said.

  “How would you know what might be valuable?” Cherry asked, finally showing some of the same attitude as her brother.

  “Okay, what if anything we find belonging to either of you, we keep and let you decide what to do with it,” Nate suggested. “And you’re free to come and go through things yourself if you want.”

  “Come on, Cherry,” Walter shouted.

  Cherry looked away. Looked back. She twisted her hands nervously in front of her. Was she afraid of something? It was almost as if she wanted to say something else.

  “You’re staying here?” she finally asked.

  “Yes.”

  “Don’t you have a job?”

  “Vacation,” Nate lied.

  Cherry nodded.

  “Come on, Cherry. We’re wasting our time talking to this idiot,” Walter called from the open car window.

  Cherry shot him one last look, a combination of hatred and something else that Nate couldn’t name, turned and strode back to the car. The minute her car door slammed shut, Nate heard the words ‘contact my attorney’ coming from the back seat where his Aunt Judy had remained during the whole interaction.

  Creed and Nate stood side by side until the car disappeared at the end of the block, neither of them speaking.

  “This could get ugly,” Creed said quietly. “Depending on how far they want to push.”

  “If it’s not about the money, I can’t imagine why they would want to hire an attorney to contest the will,” Nate said, shoulders slumping as exhaustion overtook him. This was the very reason he had moved so far away from family and that included his dad.

&
nbsp; Drama.

  “Why don’t you relax here on the porch for a while,” Creed said, his voice soft, almost coaxing. Then he touched Nate’s arm. “I’ll get you a beer and then fix us some lunch.

  Warmth flowed through him at Creed’s touch, comforting and exciting at the same time. The two men turned and walked toward the house. “Thanks,” Nate said as he fell into one of the big rockers on the porch.

  “Put your feet up,” Creed said. “I’ll be right back.”

  Nate leaned back in the chair and closed his eyes. That morning, Creed’s energy and his natural role as caregiver had made Nate feel uncomfortable. Had even caused him to think that having Creed around all the time might be a bad idea. Now, in the light of everything that had happened since then, he was glad Creed was here. It was almost like he knew when to take control of things and when to relent. Before he could sift through those thoughts completely, Creed reappeared, offering him a beer, the bottle cold and wet in his hand.

  “I’m making grilled cheese,” Creed said, wiggling his eyebrows. “With pepperoni.”

  Nate smiled, rubbed the bottle against his forehead. “Need any help?” he offered, although he didn’t think he’d ever made himself a grilled cheese sandwich in his life.

  “Nope,” Creed said, taking a drink from the bottle he held in his own hands.

  Nate looked up, watching Creed’s throat as he swallowed, his gaze straying to the t-shirt stretched across his chest.

  “Ahhhhh, that’s good,” Creed said, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “Drink up. This will only take a few.”

  “Okay,” Nate said. At that moment, all he wanted to do was sit there on the porch and not think anything.

  Creed patted his shoulder, winked and disappeared.

  While Creed was gone, Nate let his thoughts drift back to that day at school when he and Creed officially met. He’d known Creed, of course, because of his photography skills but that was all. He didn’t even know Creed’s name. He just knew that Creed was different. He wasn’t a jock. He wasn’t in Nate’s bookish, National Honor Society group either. Just seemed kind of lost in the middle, trying to find his way.