by Agatha Ball
The building still had a fishy, metallic, machine smell to it, even after all these years. It was two-stories tall and had a long, open floor plan, as they might say on HGTV. The squat, narrow windows ran along the top of the walls, but they were so covered in dirt, they barely let in any light. Old, rusted vats sat on one side of the room, and an old, rusted catwalk hung over them. Bits and pieces of the cannery's assembly line were still bolted to the ground and ran down the center of space.
I guess that Byron had decided to try to flip this flop, because there was a modern clipboard and tape measure sitting on the conveyer belt at the far end of the factory.
I carefully picked my way over, praying that the place was so abandoned even the rats had decided to pull up stakes and go where the pickings were less slim.
I looked down at the clipboard. There was nothing useful there. Not even letterhead. It was just a yellow legal pad with a bunch of measurements in handwriting so sloppy, I couldn't make heads or tails of it.
I put my hands on my hips and looked around. Where was the person that this clipboard belonged to? Had he decided to take a smoke break down at the beach?
And that's when something caught my eye.
Back in a dark corner, behind one of the large metal vats, was a lump. I opened up the flashlight app on my phone and tried to figure out what the lump was. It looked like a pile of dingy, green material.
I walked around it, and there was enough space between the vat and the wall for me to get a closer look.
It was something wrapped in a dusty, wool Army blanket.
I nudged it with my foot. It was something stiff and hard. I reached out and lifted up the corner.
And found myself stifling a scream.
It was the skeleton of a girl. Or at least, I assumed it was a girl. She had been dead a long time. There wasn't much left of her, except a short, red party dress that looked straight out of the 90s party scene.
I dropped the blanket and backed away. THAT'S what the guy in the trailer must have found. He came in here and discovered a body. But what had he done next? Where had he gone? And what was I supposed to do? Wrap up the body in the blanket and bring it with me back to the police station? Bury it? Leave it... just lying there... My heart was racing and I couldn't think straight. My thoughts were all white noise.
That's when I heard a sound outside. My heart flew into my mouth. Who would come out here? Maybe it was just an animal. I prayed it was the guy from the trailer. Unless he had killed the girl, in which case, I hoped it wasn't him at all. Who would find their way down a closed-off road and just stumble into the cannery? I mean, yes, technically, that's what I did, but I had a reason to be here. I flipped off my flashlight and crouched down, watching the door.
I rested my head against the vat. I was so dumb coming out here alone. Anything could happen and no one would ever know. Heck, no one would even know I had been out here to look for me. Would they think that I had killed this woman?
I heard footsteps enter the cannery.
I glanced around the corner, feeling sick to my stomach. I ducked back, terrified. Standing out in middle of the cannery was Yvette. Yvette, the same woman who should have been minding her cafe. Yvette, the woman Byron hated, yet whose land had magically returned to her. Why was she here? Was this where Byron had been killed and then moved away from? Was she covering up her tracks, now that Tim was about to take the fall? Or had she worked with Tim?
I heard her shuffling around, and then I heard her footsteps coming my way. Had she seen me? Was she coming to deal out the same fate to me as she had dealt to Byron and the man outside my cottage... and maybe the girl I had found hidden behind the vat?
And then she stopped and started moving the other way.
There's a moment in everyone's life where they decide fight or flight. And being alone, out in the far end of the island by myself? I picked flight. I ran toward the door as fast as my legs could carry me.
"Who's there?" I heard Yvette call. And then I heard her shout, "PAIGE! PAIGE! GET BACK HERE!"
There was no way I was going back, not without police protection. It sounded like she was running after me. I doubled my speed.
And that's when all the humidity that had been building up all day decided to show what it was really made of. The skies opened up and the rain began pouring down. It was not a gentle summer rain. I cursed myself for not checking the weather before I left. I couldn't hear Yvette anymore, and I figured maybe I had lost her.
I stumbled back the general direction I thought the road was. And it was not the right direction. I ended up at the shore. I pulled out my phone to try and work my GPS to find my way back to the road. And that's when my phone leaped out of my hand and landed in a puddle of water.
I picked it up, dripping. "Oh no..." I said. That was the last thing I needed, to destroy my phone before I could call for help. I knew if I turned it on now, it would be toast.
I took a deep breath. I was on an island. I might be lost, but all I had to do was turn around the other direction. I had my bearings. I plunged back into the tree line and just kept running in a straight line until I emerged on the other side. I followed along the edge of the forest and the field until I found the road, which led me to the closed road, and my bike. I kicked up the kickstand and headed toward town as fast my legs could spin those pedals.
The journey back to Main Street seemed to take twice as long as before. I was cold and shivering and the rain was coming down in torrential sheets. I prayed that Yvette wouldn't pass me on the road. There was no place for me to hide aside from dropping my bike on the ground and crawling into the grass.
When I arrived, the police office was dark and shuttered. Granny was at bingo night. My cell phone didn't work. The only light was from Jake's Tavern. I wiped the raindrops from my eyes. He'd have a phone and he'd know Stan's phone number.
I walked up to the front door. The bar was completely empty. I guess on a rainy night, people prefer to stay indoors rather than stumble down the road for a game of darts. But I could not have been more thankful. Jake was washing out a glass when he saw me come in.
"What the heck happened to you?" he asked, racing around the bar. "Wait here. I think I may have a jacket someone left in the lost and found." He was back a few minutes later with a black coat that smelled of old beer and cigarette smoke. I didn't even care. I slid into it and it felt like heaven.
"Here! Sit down! Is there anything I can get you?" he asked.
"Something hot?" I replied.
"Of COURSE!" He grabbed the coffee pot and poured a cup into a sturdy white mug. "It's no Bitter Beans, but it'll have to do."
I wrapped my hands around the cup and felt a million times better already. I tried to ignore the fact that my hands were trembling.
"Thank you," I said. "I can't stop shivering."
"I bet that rainstorm chilled you to the bone," he said, "Your lips are blue. You should get home. What were you doing out there?"
"I think I may have found where Byron was murdered."
He leaned forward, suddenly even more concerned. "What?"
"It was out on the other side of the island. The cannery. And... I think I may have... I think I may have found something else."
"Seems like you need a little something that will warm you a little better than that coffee," he said. He reached below the counter and pulled out a bottle of whiskey, giving me a shot. He put it on the table in front of me. "Are you okay?"
I knocked it back and enjoyed the burning tingle as it spread out through my body. "I think I need to call the police..." I replied.
"What did you see?"
"Oh Jake," I said. I started trembling even more. My eyes filled up with tears as the shock and fear wore off and the emotions of what I had seen rushed over me. "It was awful."
He gave me a squeeze. "Listen, Stan will have closed up the jailhouse and gone home to bed. Half the time, he turns off his ringer. You go home. Get into some dry clothes. I'll head over an
d pick him up. Bring him to your place. Okay?"
I smiled in relief. It felt so good to have someone else step in to take care of things. "You have yourself a deal," I replied, getting off the bar stool.
"I'll see you soon!" said Jake, closing up the till as I walked toward the door.
It's funny, I felt a little woozier than I should have from that little splash of whiskey that Jake had given me. The whole world seemed like it was spinning. I got to my bike and tried to put my feet on the pedals. They kept slipping off. I knew it was just that I was exhausted, and chilled to my core, and in shock, and I hadn't eaten all day. I rode my bike up the hill, but couldn't seem to keep the wheels facing in the right direction. I finally just got off and started stumbling to the door. I didn't even bother dragging the bike beside me. I let it drop into the grass, and figured I'd pick it up tomorrow.
It felt like the world was turning into a tunnel, and all I could see was the faintest pinprick of light from my cottage in the distance. I stumbled and fell to the ground. The rock gashing my knee brought me out of the stupor for just a second. I just needed to get into the cottage.
I put my hand on the door, but it kept slipping off the knob. Finally, I figured out how to work the key in the lock, and the door swung open. I fell face first onto the bed, and then all was dark.
I woke, aware that someone was in the room. I pried open my eyes. They felt like they had been glued shut. There was a part of me that was telling me all was fine, that I should just ignore it and go to sleep. There was another part of me that was screaming to get up.
"Hello?" I croaked.
"Hey, Paige."
"Jake?" I asked. It sounded like his voice, but I couldn't see him. The door to the cottage was open, and he was standing in silhouette. "Did you get Stan?"
"No, I didn't get Stan," he replied. I felt him sit on the corner of my bed. "Tell me, Paige, what did you find at the cannery?"
"A body," I murmured as the darkness threatened to engulf me again. "I found the body of a girl."
"Oh Paige," replied Jake. It sounded like he was very sad. "I was afraid you were going to say that."
I suddenly felt a pillow over my face, and I couldn't breathe. I could feel Jake trying to hold me still. I kicked and thrashed and somehow managed to get away from him.
I crouched on the ground, my head banging. I realized Jake had put something in my drink. "Why are you doing this, Jake? Why?"
He shook his head as started coming toward me. "I wish you hadn't gone there. I wish you hadn't found that girl. I really liked you, Paige. I felt like you had such a bright future."
"What are you talking about?" I croaked. My head was so fuzzy and my mouth felt like it was full of cotton. My body felt so heavy. "Did you kill her? Did you kill her, Jake?"
"I didn't want to," he said coming around the bed with the pillow. "Just like I don't want to kill you. But sometimes we have to do things we don't like." And then he lunged again. He had me pinned between the bed and the wall. There was no place for me to wiggle away. There was no place for me to go.
And then suddenly I felt Jake's body lurch, and the pressure lifted. I felt someone pushing Jake off of me. I heard the sound of a struggle, and a loud crash, and then silence.
"Paige? Paige, are you okay?"
The pillow lifted and there was Nate, standing there looking at me. "Oh, Nate!" I blubbered, unable to get my lips and tongue to work properly, and the tears and snot making it even worse.
Nate gathered me up into his arms and held me, simultaneously pulling out his cell phone and dialing someone. "I'm calling for help," he explained. He said something into the receiver, but I was having a hard time hanging onto consciousness.
I felt him put my arm around his neck and lift me. Within moments, he helped me out of the cottage. The blast of cold air brought me back to consciousness.
"Stan is on his way," Nate said, putting my feet on the ground. "It’s all going to be okay, Paige."
I nestled into his shirt. I felt my knees go to rubber, and if I hadn't had my arms wrapped around him, I would have fallen to the ground.
He pushed back the hair from my face, and I guess whatever he saw there was bad.
"Paige?" His voice was filled with concern.
"Jake put something in my drink," I slurred, unable to keep my head straight.
Nate swung his arms beneath my knees. I felt my body bouncing as he ran. I pried my eyes open and saw his uncle's car in front of us.
"I need you to stay with me, Paige," Nate said as he opened the passenger's door. "I need you to stay awake."
"But it would feel so good to go to sleep," I replied, my eyelids becoming unbelievably heavy.
"But if you go to sleep, I might not see you anymore," Nate replied. I heard the door next to me shut, and then the driver's side door open. I felt the bench seat shift as Nate climbed in and revved the engine of the old truck. "You still with me? Stay awake! I want to see your eyes open, Paige. I want to see you! If I didn't see you anymore, that would make me sad."
"Okay," I replied, sleepily. "How sad would it make you?"
"Very, very sad," he replied. He reached out and grabbed my hand as he drove with the other. "See, I was planning this big date for you and me, Paige. I was planning on this great day out. I was going to take you to the beach and put together a picnic. Just you and me. Oh, Paige, don't leave me now..."
But I didn't have much say in the matter.
Chapter Twenty
The next thing I knew I was lying in a hospital bed. There were IVs sticking in my arms and a circle of familiar faces around my bed. I weakly opened my eyes and tried to smile.
"I had the strangest dream, Auntie Em, but there's no place like home," I croaked, my voice not coming out much louder than a whisper.
Nate flung his arms across my shoulders and pressed his cheek against mine.
"He wouldn't leave your side," said Granny, sitting on the foot of my bed. "This young man saved your life."
Johnny gave him a double thumbs up.
I tried to moisten my dry mouth, which Nate seemed to notice, because he picked up a cup of water and held the straw for me until I could get a good gulp. I relaxed my head on my pillow, unable to hold myself up for any longer. "All I remember is Nate putting me into the car after Jake attacked me. What happened?"
"Well," said Granny, gazing with pride and approval at Nate. "After Nate knocked Jake out cold, he drove you here to the medical center, where a team of Seaside's finest have been detoxing your blood like an ODing addict." She gave a nod to Johnny. "Johnny was particularly helpful in identifying what Jake slipped in your drink."
Johnny gave me a little salute. "Happy to be of service."
"Nate called Stan, and Stan went up to the cottage and found Jake unconscious on the floor just like Nate told him," Granny continued. "Stan's an idiot, but even he could see that Jake hadn't been there on a social call. Stan made the arrest, and we've just been waiting for you to wake up long enough to tell us exactly what happened."
Nate put his hand in mine and I gave it a grateful squeeze. I was still confused, though. "But why did you come up to my cottage in the first place, Nate? We weren't supposed to get together until tomorrow."
"Well," he replied, rubbing his jaw, "I had been thinking about everything that we talked about... my uncle and the land and... I just thought that maybe we should get some stuff on record." He looked at me guiltily. Even in my state, I could tell something was weighing heavily on his heart. "I thought I also might see what Tim had to say. And... this whole time you've been here at the hospital, all I've been able to think is that if I had called you and told you I was going to talk to Tim, maybe you wouldn't have gone to the cannery. Maybe I could have stopped this." His shoulders slumped. "I'm so sorry, Paige. I should have told you. I should have let you know what I was doing. This is all my fault and I'm so sorry."
I shushed him, feeling so awful that he had been carrying around a sense of responsibility for my
, frankly, idiotic actions. "I should have told you. I headed over right after I left you," I tried to reassure him. "I was out of range. You wouldn't have been able to reach me even if you tried. I was the jerk."
I don't know if he accepted what I was saying. I think it was going to take him a little longer to come to peace with what happened and to understand he had nothing to feel guilty about. I decided I was going to have to heal up fast to prove to him it was going to be all right.
He re-gathered his thoughts and continued his story. "The office was closed, but that's when I ran into Yvette in the parking lot. She was so upset. She said she went out hiking and she likes to park where the road is closed off by the old cannery and head out to the beach, but then she saw your bike. She said that she saw the door to the old cannery was open and wondered what was going on. She went inside and you were in there, but something really spooked you and you took off in the rain toward the shore. She went to see what it was and... well... she found what had frightened you."
"Stan says it was a girl who had gone missing at least fifteen years ago," Granny explained gently.
"We couldn't find Stan or Fred anywhere," Nate said. "That's why I didn't immediately drive out to the cannery. It was all happening so fast, and I couldn't abandon Yvette. I thought we'd find Stan or Fred quickly; by then, you'd be back, or they could show me how to get there."
"Stan was with me in the dive shop," Johnny piped up. "I was supposed to be taking him out to the sailor's boat in the cove, but the rain nixed the cruise. Total bummer. But, that meant we were around and stuff. Isn't it crazy how everything is in divine order in the universe?" He fell into silence as he became completely mesmerized by the drip of my IV bag.
"By the time we reached Stan," Nate continued, "you still hadn't shown up. I couldn't shake the feeling that something was really wrong. So, I went to your place. And that's when I found Jake trying to kill you."
