Kindred Spirits

by D J Monroe

  Nate read quickly through the article. “It’s Dr. Eli Petersen and his wife, Emily Petersen,” Nate said. “That’s the doctor Tammy was babysitting for. The picture of the door is their residence over on Delaware Street.”

  Creed squinted in thought. “So just about three streets over from here.”

  Nate nodded. “Surely there were neighbors around, someone to hear her scream if she was in trouble.”

  Slowly Nate worked his way through the yellowed, sometimes difficult to read newspaper articles with Creed making notes. Maybe an hour into their investigation, Nate began to see a timeline take shape in his head. His eyes were tired from squinting at the faded articles and he felt a headache coming on. He rubbed his eyes with his fingers and reached into the refrigerator for a beer, handing one to Creed. Finally, he glanced over Creed’s shoulder to see what he had written.

  “So, what does it look like we have so far?” he asked.

  “The newspaper corroborates your dad’s story,” Creed began. “The Petersen’s were attending a banquet that night where Dr. Petersen was to receive a humanitarian award of some sort. They asked Tammy to babysit. She left here around six with instructions to call and check in at nine. She didn’t call. Her mom, your grandma, called at ten but got no answer,” Creed told him, his pen touching lightly under each bullet point.

  “And the police were able to verify that that call was made, right,” Nate said.

  “Um, yes,” Creed answered.

  “Okay, so that’s a three hour window,” Nate said pacing the kitchen floor.

  “A lot can happen in three hours,” Creed said, tapping the legal pad with his pen.

  Nate walked away and looked out the window over the kitchen sink.

  Creed continued, reminding him of what they’d already read. “Her mom wanted your grandpa to go check on her at ten but he was sure she was probably on her way home and would walk in the door any minute.”

  “No cell phones,” Nate said quietly. He crossed the room and looked out the back door.

  “Finally, when your dad came home around eleven, they went to the Petersen’s to find out what was going on. Tammy was not there and it looked like the doctor and his wife had just arrived. They found her shoe about halfway up the stairs and her broken glasses in the yard. Nothing else. She was just gone,” Creed finished and sat back in the chair.

  “And the baby was sleeping soundly upstairs,” Nate said, almost to himself.

  “Yes.”

  “People don’t just disappear,” Nate said.

  Creed picked up the camera and looked through the viewfinder. “She’s trying to tell us something bad happened to her.”

  Nate shot Creed a skeptical look.

  “Believe what you will,” Creed said, with a little shrug.

  Nate took the old camera from him and looked through the viewfinder. Yes, there was Tammy standing in front of that door, the closed screen door between her and whoever was outside. She looked even more frightened than before, talking to someone, pointing with one hand. Her free hand fondled that locket around her neck. Finally, she stepped back to close the door.

  “What was the Petersen’s address?”

  Creed consulted his notes. “Two twenty-six Delaware.”

  “That matches up with the numbers on the door,” Nate said, handing the camera back to Creed.

  Creed looked through the viewfinder. While Nate waited for him to verify what he’d seen, he began shuffling back through the newspaper articles. Yes, there it was, the picture of the Petersen’s door. The metal address numbers were definitely a two and another two and a six.

  “Looks like almost all of the coverage for the newspaper was done by one person. Gilbert Rollins,” Creed said.

  “I wonder if he’s still around?” Nate said.

  “I’ll try to find out,” Creed said, glad that they’d already retrieved his laptop from the real-estate office.

  When Creed left the room, Nate picked up the camera and looked into the lens again. He wasn’t sure why this was happening. Had to be some weird phenomenon, some trick of time or light or something. He was concentrating so hard, he barely heard Creed return.

  “Her boyfriend was the main suspect, correct?” Even though Nate had read the articles aloud to Creed, he kept getting the facts confused in his head.

  Creed checked his notes. “Yes. His name was Butch Kender. He was head quarterback, big name jock here in town. He and your Uncle Charles led the football team to the finals every year. I think I remember even still hearing both of their names when we were in school.”

  Nate nodded. Yes, he remembered Butch’s name, remembered seeing the trophies and photographs of both boys in the displays that lined the hallway entrance into the school. To the best of his recollection, Butch was a big guy and in all of the photos of him, including the ones in the newspaper articles, he looked cocky and self-assured. He was usually surrounded by adoring looking cheerleaders. His Uncle Charles was just as athletic and just as popular.

  “He had an alibi, right?” Nate asked.

  “Yes,” Creed said, scanning his notes. “He was at home studying.”

  “On a Friday night?” Nate sounded skeptical.

  “Verified by his sister,” Creed said.

  They were quiet for a few moments.

  “He could have hurt Tammy if he’d wanted to,” Creed said, as if he’d read Nate’s thoughts.

  “He was big enough but why would he hurt her?” Nate asked.

  Creed looked thoughtful for a moment. “Maybe they got into an argument about something and he hit her. Maybe it was an accident.”

  “And he would keep that quiet because of his scholarships and such,” Nate said. “But he had to do something with her body. What does a kid know about getting rid of a body?”

  “Maybe he had help,” Creed suggested.

  Nate thought about that for a moment. “That means someone else knows the story and they’ve managed to keep it a secret all of these years.”

  “Stranger things have happened,” Creed said, his gaze straying to the camera.

  “They questioned my dad and Charles, too, didn’t they?”

  Again, Creed checked his notes. “Yes, that same night. Both had alibis. Your dad had worked a shift at the Dairy Rite that night and hung out with some friends there until about eleven. Everyone saw him there, several people, including the owner testified to that.”

  “Charles?”

  “He was with a buddy of his right up the street here. They were working on their cars all evening,” Creed reported. “Bill Adams was his name.”

  “So, that takes out the closest people to Tammy,” Nate said.

  “I think so,” Creed said.

  “Who does that leave us with?”

  Creed went over the notes again. “Let’s see, the doctor was with his wife were at an awards ceremony that evening. It looks like the police talked to all the neighbors as well.”

  “No one saw or heard anything unusual,” Nate said, stating the facts as he’d read them earlier.

  “Correct.”

  “They found her shoe on the stairs,” Nate said.

  “I wonder if she was running up the stairs or being drug back down?” Creed said.

  Nate had no answer for that. “The baby was found safe upstairs in its crib. Maybe she was going up there to protect it.”

  “Or leading her attacker away from the nursery.”

  Both men were quiet for a moment while Creed googled Gilbert Rollins.

  “Her broken glasses were in the yard.”

  Creed picked them up, again, getting that little blast of energy. “And this is just speculation but it looks like someone stepped on them.”

  “Agreed,” Nate said, after taking the glasses and studying them closely.

  “I think you read somewhere that her camera was still there at the scene sitting on the hearth, untouched,” Creed reminded him.

  “I wonder if there was film in the camera when they fo
und it?” Nate said aloud. He flopped into a nearby chair, leaned back and clasped his hands together behind his head. This was so frustrating and they’d barely scratched the surface.

  And they’d made absolutely no progress on cleaning out the house.

  “That might be information that was kept away from the press. It would be in the police files.”

  Nate nodded in agreement. “You know, to get the whole picture, I’m afraid we might have to call on your contact in the police force.”

  Creed laughed. “He’s my brother-in-law.”

  “Friends in the right places,” Nate grinned.

  “Unless we find something else in the rest of these articles, we don’t seem to be getting anywhere,” Creed nodded in agreement.

  Nate’s stomach growled and both men laughed. “I think it’s time for dinner,” he said.

  Creed stood and stretched.

  Nate reached for his cell. “Let’s order pizza.”

  “If you insist,” Creed said. “The only place in town that delivers is Maria’s and that’s hit or miss.”

  “We’ll find out,” Nate said, tapping his screen. He waited a moment and then said, “Are you delivering this evening?”

  After another wait, he grinned and gave Creed a thumb’s up. “I’d like to order a pizza, please.”

  “I’ll eat anything,” Creed whispered.

  Nate smiled, placed the order for a large pepperoni and cheese pizza and gave the address. “I’m on hold. She had to check with her manager to see if they were delivering,” Nate said, laughing.

  “That sounds about right,” Creed said. “If you call again tomorrow night, they might not be delivering at all. And once, the person who took my order was the same person who made my pizza and made the delivery as well.”

  “I really have forgotten what it’s like to live in a small town,” Nate said.

  “Yep, where everybody knows everybody else and their business,” Creed added.

  “Thank you,” Nate said into his phone and ended the call. “Pizza should be here shortly,” he told Creed.

  “Great.”

  “So, how does a young girl go missing, right under the noses of neighbors, friends and family and no one knows what happened?” Nate asked.

  Creed shrugged. “You got me there. The community was even more tight knit back in those days, too, probably.”

  They were quiet for a moment, Nate letting his thoughts roam back over what they’d discovered so far. “You know we’re crazy for taking on this investigation, right?”

  Creed smiled. “Neither of us know what we’re doing.” He sighed. “But I don’t think Tammy will let us give up until we figure out what happened.”

  “You really believe that, don’t you,” Nate said.

  Creed nodded. “That’s the only explanation I have for what’s going on with that camera.”

  Nate didn’t have a response for that.

  “After we look at the police reports, we’re going to have to start talking to people we can find. Like this Gilbert Rollins,” Creed said.

  Nate nodded and stood. “Somebody has to know what happened to Tammy Palmer and they’re just not talking.”

  Seventeen: A Kiss

  “If the police couldn’t get them to talk, we sure can’t,” Creed said, glad that Nate was leading the way outside.

  Creed felt like he had to get away from everything including Tammy Palmer’s camera and her disappearance for a few minutes and just breathe. As if the spirit surrounding them understood this, it didn’t appear to follow them outside.

  “All we can do is try,” Nate said, collapsing into one of the rockers on the porch.

  “True,” Creed said, resting one hip on the edge of the bannister, facing Nate.

  He swung one leg back and forth slowly, trying to keep his gaze on his foot. In reality, all he wanted to do was look at Nate. The unruly dark hair, the five o’clock shadow that darkened his jaw and was becoming more prominent as the day wore on. He had such intelligent eyes only magnified by the glasses he wore. And when Nate was concentrating on something really hard, the way he chewed on his bottom lip.

  A very full, very kissable bottom lip.

  Creed’s thoughts were interrupted by the sound of a car horn.

  “Pizza’s here,” Nate said, leaning forward and looking around Creed. “That was fast.”

  Creed stayed right where he was as Nate launched himself off the porch and headed down the walk. He met the driver (the owner of Gino’s who waved at Creed) about halfway to the house, pulling out his wallet as he walked. To take his mind off of Nate’s easy, almost athletic movements, Creed returned the wave, went into the house and grabbed two more beers out of the refrigerator.

  When Creed returned to the porch, Nate had placed the pizza on the little table between the two rockers and opened the lid. He handed Nate one of the beers and sat down in the rocker. Creed’s stomach growled. He hadn’t even realized he was hungry until the aroma of warm crust and baked cheese hit his nose.

  They ate in silence for a while, Creed’s mind going over everything that had happened in just the past few days. His life had changed completely. He’d been evicted from his apartment, reconnected with Nate and temporarily had a job that gave him a roof over his head.

  Mostly, though, he was surprised and a little confused by whatever was happening with that camera. Supernatural? Paranormal? That was the only way to describe the energy or spirit of whatever he felt in the house. Yet, he couldn’t remember anything like this happening to him before.

  Still, neither of them could deny it was indeed happening.

  Nate’s dad called while they were eating and he answered, appearing to immediately grow stiff and formal, as if expecting bad news. Creed could only hear half of the conversation but it seemed pleasant enough and Nate seemed to relax as the two men talked. Unfortunately, Nate didn’t have much to offer in the way of their progress on the house nor did he mention the investigation into Tammy’s disappearance for which Creed was glad.

  Nate told his dad about his cousins and his Aunt Judy’s visit, the insinuated threats and asked his dad’s opinion on that. Evidently, his dad wasn’t any more concerned than Nate because Nate laughed heartily at his reaction.

  Creed smiled. Even Nate’s laugh was sexy, a deep throaty sound that Creed tried to imagine hearing in the dark. Shaking off those thoughts, he swallowed the last of his beer and popped a piece of crust into his mouth. Then he took a short walk around the house. The shadows were growing long and the day was finally cooling down a bit. He was glad they’d started in the attic because it was only going to get hotter as the summer wore on.

  He peeked into the garage and found it empty and then noted that the fence that surrounded the back yard seemed to be in pretty good shape. As he walked around the side of the house, Creed had a thought. Nate’s call with his dad was just ending and Creed stopped on the bottom step and looked up at him.

  “I just thought of something,” Creed said.

  “What is that.”

  “Each of the bedrooms are essentially the same as they were when Tammy disappeared or at least that’s what it looked like to me,” Creed began.

  Nate nodded. “Pretty much. Just filled up with more stuff.”

  “So, Charles had his own room. Your dad had his own room. Tammy and Judy shared a room and there’s the master bedroom,” Creed said, going back over the rooms he’d seen.

  “Correct.”

  “Maybe there’s something in Tammy’s room that might give us a clue. Maybe a diary or a journal or something,” Creed suggested.

  Nate looked thoughtful and then said, “If there was anything like that, the police would have certainly found and confiscated it wouldn’t they?”

  Ever the optimist Creed said, “Unless it was hidden very, very well. As only teenaged girls can hide things.”

  Nate smiled.

  “I mean when you were a kid didn’t you hide things in your room?” Creed asked. “Plac
es no one would have thought to look.” His mind immediately went to the gay magazines he’d hidden underneath his mattress.

  “I suppose so,” Nate said.

  “It wouldn’t hurt to at least take a look,” Creed said, shifting his weight from side to side on the balls of his feet, excitement growing.

  At first he didn’t think Nate was going to agree to his suggestion but then Nate’s grin returned.

  “Let’s go see what we can find.”

  This time, Creed led the way up the stairs, taking them two at a time. When he reached the landing on the second floor where all of the bedrooms were located, he stopped abruptly. Nate was too close behind him to stop, putting both hands out to try to prevent the collision.

  But it was too late.

  Their bodies met and Nate’s heavier one pushed Creed further into the hall, causing him to lose his balance. Flailing, Creed grabbed onto Nate to keep from falling. Nate held onto Creed to keep him from falling. They ended up in a tangled mass of arms and legs against the closest wall.

  “Are you okay?” Nate asked, sounding a little breathless. He slowly released Creed and placed both hands on his shoulders.

  Creed nodded, very aware that Nate’s hands on his shoulders sent a little shiver of desire right to his core. And then, slowly, the ridiculousness of the situation hit him, sending him into gales of laughter. “Sorry,” he said, wiping his watering eyes. “I just realized I’d run ahead of you. This isn’t my house. It’s yours.”

  Nate shook his head and began to laugh as well. “And if I’d been paying attention, I wouldn’t have plowed into you like a big, clumsy runaway train.”

  “It’ll take more than a run in with a wall to hurt me,” Creed said.

  Nate was still close, looking into Creed’s eyes as if trying to make sure he was unhurt. And Creed wanted to kiss him, wanted it more than anything he’d ever experienced before. All he had to do was lean forward and—

  “Don’t ever worry about whether you’re ahead of me or not,” Nate said, making small circles with his fingers on Creed’s shoulders. “We’re in this together.”

  Creed shivered as Nate licked his lips and continued to look into his eyes. And then, as if coming to a decision, Nate kissed him. It was a tender kiss that made Creeds knees grow weak and sent heat spiraling down his body. Unable to stop himself, Creed kissed him back, gently placing a hand on the back of his neck. His lips parted as the kiss deepened and Nate moaned softly, pressing his body closer. As far as Creed was concerned, that kiss could go on forever and he wouldn’t have minded.