by Kathi Daley
******
Mom and I settled on her deck with our lunch and I let her steer the conversation for a while. She asked about my work and the remodel on my cabin, and I asked about her plans for the upcoming holiday season. Eventually, she brought things around to the point. “So, what’s really on your mind?” Mom asked. “We see each other almost every day. We’ve already talked about the holidays. I don’t think that’s why you’re here.”
I took a deep breath in, then blew it out slowly. “You’re right. I’m here because of a conversation I had with Aunt Ruthie about family trees.”
Mom looked confused. “Family trees?”
I nodded. “I’ve decided to do one. Tony’s going to help me. I asked Aunt Ruthie about our ancestors, especially ancestors we had who might still live in other countries. She said she didn’t know of any but would be interested in learning about our heritage when we find anything out. One thing led to another, and she mentioned you’d been to Europe after you graduated high school.” I paused and looked at her. “It seems a trip to Europe would be sort of a big deal, but I didn’t remember you ever talking about it, so I guess I got curious.”
Mom didn’t say anything right away, which made me feel like squirming. There was a thoughtful look on her face, although she didn’t seem particularly upset.
“I know this might not be the best time to ask, with what’s been going on with Romero,” I added. “If you don’t want to talk about it, I understand.”
Mom shook her head. “No. It’s fine. Romero and I are, or I guess I should say were, just friends. I’m upset he hasn’t been in touch, but he has nothing to do with my summer abroad.”
“Aunt Ruthie said you didn’t like to talk about it.”
Mom smiled, a tired little smile. “I don’t. Or at least I didn’t. Don’t get me wrong: the trip was wonderful. The best time in my life. But I was young and acted on impulse then, rather than logic. I knew I was going to have to come home at the end of the trip, but that didn’t stop me from falling for a man I met in Norway.”
My heart started to pound. “Norway?”
Mom nodded. “Beautiful country. You really should visit sometime.”
“And this man you fell in love with lived in Norway?” She had just said as much, but I was so shocked to immediately be getting the answers I wanted, I found myself asking again.
Mom nodded again. “His name was Jared, and I fell for him hard the first time I met him. He was handsome and educated. Cultured and so very funny. He was romantic and thoughtful, and his eyes…” Mom put her hand to her chest. “His eyes were piecing. I know that sounds like a cliché, but his really were. I felt like he could look right through me to my soul.”
“You loved him.”
Mom bowed her head. “I did. So very much. And he loved me; I was sure of it. But I lived here and he lived there, so we parted. We knew we didn’t have a future together, so we just ended it rather than suffering through a long-drawn-out, long-distance thing that would eventually end anyway. It was the worst time of my life.”
“Worse than when Dad died?”
Mom huffed out a breath. “Will you think less of me if I say yes? Of course I loved your father, but we never had what Jared and I had. In fact, if I’m totally honest, I think the reason I started dating your dad in the first place was because he looked like Jared. Jared had a way about him that made him seem more handsome than Grant, but other than the hard edges I associate with your father, the two could have been doubles. Though once you got past the physical resemblance, the similarities ended. Your dad was a good man. He provided for his family and he worked hard. But he was difficult to get to know. It was almost as if there was a part of him I could never reach. A part he kept secret. I honestly don’t know if we would have lasted if he hadn’t been a trucker. He was away most of the time. It was easier that way.”
Wow. Did that ever explain a lot.
“Do you have a photo of Jared?” I wondered.
Mom nodded. “I do. Wait here. I’ll fetch my shoebox.”
I tried not to freak out while I waited. This explained why Mom was on the same bridge as Jared, and why a man looked like my father but had a different name. I wondered why he was being investigated by the state senator and what had happened to him. He obviously wasn’t my father. If Mom had loved one man and married the other, there was no way he was the same person. A woman in love would know that.
“Here we go,” Mom said.
I took the box and opened it.
“You had blond hair,” I said, holding up a photo.
“For a while after high school. I was feeling adventurous and decided to give blond a try. I eventually decided it wasn’t for me, changed it back, and have kept it dark ever since.”
I continued to look through the box, which was full of photos from her trip. There were photos of her with another girl her age who must have been her friend. There were photos of scenery and photos of Jared. I wanted to show them to Tony, but I didn’t want to be obvious about it, so I asked for a drink, then quickly took several photos that showed Jared’s face the most clearly and sent them to Tony. Now that I could see Jared’s full face, it was clear that while he had some features similar to my father’s, there were differences as well.
Mom and I visited for another hour before I made my excuses and left. I wasn’t sure if I’d taken a step forward or a step back when it came to figuring out what had happened to my dad. When we thought he and Jared were the same person, I’d felt we had an avenue of investigation. Now I wasn’t so sure. I needed to talk to Tony, who I knew would help me make sense of all this.
Chapter 6
Tony had already had a chance to look at the photos I’d sent him by the time I got to his house. We agreed that now that we knew for a fact Jared Collins wasn’t my father, it might be best to stop investigating him and focus our attention on finding my dad. We still had the Harrington family mystery to look in to too. I’m not sure why we got wrapped up in mysteries the way we did, but every now and then something came along that spoke to our natural curiosity.
“Doing a family tree isn’t a bad idea, you know,” Tony said. “It might help us figure out where your father came from.”
“Yes, it’s still a big question mark. Okay. I’m sort of committed anyway. Where do we start?”
“They have ancestry sites on the internet. Doing your family tree through one of them might be a good idea, in case one of your other family members decides to become involved. I could help you with the research, but if we did everything on our own, we wouldn’t be as easily able to let others benefit from what we find.” Tony pulled up a site on his computer. “Here’s one that has a good reputation. You’ll just need to fill out the information and send for a test kit.”
I worked on that while Tony did something else. I created an account and sent for the test kit, then turned my attention to him. “So, was Shaggy here to meet Buddy? I became so focused on what I learned from Mom, I didn’t think to ask when I first arrived.”
“He was here, and he’s definitely interested in Buddy. He had to help a friend move some furniture, but he’s coming back when he’s done. He wants to take Buddy for a trial. I said I’d have to talk to you about it, but I thought it could be worked out.”
“I’ll call Brady to let him know what we’re doing, but that should be fine. We have an extra leash, dog bed, toys, and food he can borrow, so he won’t have to buy anything. How did Buddy seem when he met Shaggy?”
“Cautious. Of course, he’s always cautious. But Shaggy threw a ball, which drew Titan and Tilly in right away, and eventually, Buddy joined in. I think they’ll get along fine once they get to know each other. If they don’t, you can always move on to plan B.”
“True, and thank you for suggesting Shaggy. The more I think about it, the more certain I am this will work out just fine.” I sat down next to Tony. “What are you working on?”
“The Harrington family tragedies. Specifically, Hillary’
s disappearance. I feel as if that’s the catalyst for everything that happened afterward. Did you ever call Mrs. Bradford? You were going to ask her if she remembered anything about the Harringtons.”
“I haven’t yet, but I will. Maybe she can see us this afternoon.”
******
Bella Bradford lived in a cheery house that had wonderful curb appeal. I didn’t know her exact age and wasn’t inclined to ask, but my best guess was somewhere in her late eighties or early nineties, so that would put her in her twenties when Hillary Harrington disappeared. Certainly old enough to remember it, and to have some opinion of what had gone on at the time.
“Yes, of course I remember when that girl went missing,” Bella said after she’d shown Tony and me in and offered us iced tea. “The family hadn’t lived in the area long. Maybe a few months. I hadn’t met or spoken to any of them, but I remember feeling devastated by what happened. I was newly married and didn’t have any children of my own, but my compassion for the mother of that child was profound.”
“I understand her body was never found and no suspect in her disappearance was ever identified?”
Bella shook her head. “The case wasn’t solved. The oldest boy was sure Wilbur Woodbine killed his sister and hid her body. It was such a shock to an already fragile community when the boy was shot and killed just a short time afterward. I guess I can understand why he suspected Wilbur. He lived alone out there in the woods, just beyond the ravine where the girl’s clothing was found. The rumor was that Hillary had befriended him. Everyone knew he wasn’t quite right in the head.”
“Right in the head?” I asked. This was the first time anyone had described Wilbur as challenged in any way.
“He was a simple man of limited intelligence, although he managed to support himself even though he never finished his schooling.”
“Did Mr. Woodbine continue to live here after the disappearance?”
Bella nodded. “Right up until the day he died, which was about twenty years ago, I suppose.”
“Do you think he killed Hillary Harrington?” Tony asked.
Bella paused before answering. “No, I don’t. Wilbur didn’t have the same intelligence and education as his peers, but he wasn’t a violent man. The family had just moved to the area and Hudson Harrington couldn’t have known the man well, but Wilbur was peaceful. The sort an unhappy teenager might be drawn to if she was looking for a sympathetic ear.”
“Do you have a theory of what might have happened to her?” I wondered.
“I don’t know what happened to the child, but I will say there was something odd going on with that family from the beginning. The very thought that the father of five children would build a fancy house in the middle of nowhere and abandon them there, never to return, is unimaginable. What kind of a man must he have been to walk away from his family without a second look?”
“So he never came back after the girl went missing?” Tony verified.
“Not as far as I know. Can you imagine such a thing?”
“Were there others living in the house?” I asked. “Household staff?”
Bella nodded. “A few. I remember hearing about a woman who was brought in to cook and clean, as well as a man who helped out with household chores and repairs. The children didn’t attend school, but a woman from town went to the house to tutor them. And of course, after Mrs. Harrington died, a nanny was brought in for the three surviving children.”
“The children didn’t attend school?” I asked. This was a new piece of information. I wasn’t certain it was relevant, but it seemed as if it might be.
“No. The children were kept isolated out there in the house. The rumor was that there was something wrong with them, that that was why Mr. Harrington hid them out there in the woods. I don’t know if that had any basis in reality. I never spoke to any of the children, but I glimpsed them from a distance from time to time. They looked normal enough.”
This was becoming more and more absurd. Why would a rich, powerful man like Hartford Harrington move his entire family to an isolated spot over a thousand miles away from where they lived? Why would he isolate the children by providing a tutor rather than allowing them to attend school? And finally, why would he seemingly ignore everything that went on after he left them?
“The tutor who came to see to the education of the Harrington children,” Tony began. “Do you know who that was?”
“Rena Wiggins. She was a young woman, just out of school herself. She moved here shortly before accepting the position.”
“Does she still live here?” I asked.
“No. She moved away at some point. I can’t remember when exactly.”
“Did she own a home?” Tony asked.
“No. She lived in one of those little apartments over by the lake. The ones with the big front porches.”
“The Patio Garden Apartments,” I supplied.
Bella nodded. “Yes. Those are the units. They were brand-new back then. In fact, I think they were built right around the same time the Harringtons arrived.”
I had a friend from school who’d lived in those apartments, which is how I knew Mrs. Watson, the current owner, who was the daughter of the woman who’d owned them when they were first built. Now I wondered if Mrs. Watson remembered Rena Wiggins and had some idea where she went when she left White Eagle. When Tony and I finished here, I’d call her.
“What about the other deaths?” I asked. “By the time Henrietta Harrington fell down the stairs, they’d been living here for a couple of years, and Hannah and Houston Harrington must have lived here about four years before they died. Do you remember there being any speculation about what happened to them?”
“No one said a word when the young girl fell down the stairs,” Bella answered. “I’m not even certain anyone was called in to investigate. I know I had no idea what occurred until someone mentioned there were now three graves in the family cemetery.”
I supposed the three would have been Hudson, Henrietta, and their mother. “So you don’t think Mr. Bennington was called when Henrietta fell?” I clarified.
“No, I don’t believe so. I imagine the family took care of things themselves. It wasn’t unheard of for wealthy families with their own cemeteries on their land to do so back then.”
“What about the staff?” Tony asked. “They must have known what happened. Wouldn’t one of them have said something to someone?”
“Perhaps they did. It’s possible I just never heard about it.”
As soon as we left Bella’s, I called Mrs. Watson, who did remember Rena Wiggins. She said she believed she was still alive and lived in Woods Bay. That wasn’t all that far away, so I called the number Mrs. Watson gave me and asked to speak to her.
******
Woods Bay was a tiny town focused on recreation about forty miles from White Eagle on the eastern shore of Flathead Lake. Rena Wiggins lived with her daughter and son-in-law in a nice home on a wooded lot. She invited Tony and me to sit out on the patio, where we could speak privately.
“Yes, of course I remember working for the Harringtons,” she said after we’d settled in and Tony had launched the conversation. She was an attractive woman who seemed to have a lot of energy given her age. I’d learned that after she’d left Harrington House, she’d taught high school in Missoula for over thirty years. After her husband died, her daughter invited her to move in with her and her husband. “It was my first teaching job after graduating high school. When I got it, I considered myself quite lucky. I wasn’t sure I would even qualify for such a high-paying position, but the man who interviewed me didn’t seem to care that I was young and hadn’t been to college yet. He gave me the idea that was a plus, that I was exactly what they were looking for. I’ll tell you, during those first days, I was on cloud nine. Of course, by the end of my time with the family, I had quite a different view of things.”
“Perhaps you can tell us what you remember from your time with the family,” I said.
She f
olded her hands in her lap after picking an invisible piece of lint from her dark slacks. “All right. I’ll try. It was so long ago.”
“Anything at all you can remember might help,” I said persuasively.
She looked nervous. Perhaps requesting that she revisit what had to have been a difficult time was a lot to ask.
“Let’s see. I started working for the family just a week or so after they moved in. The move had been a huge adjustment for all the children, so I was challenged with trying to find a way into their lives despite the somber mood of the entire household. Hillary was the rebellious one and wanted nothing to do with me or any of the servants, and Hudson was sixteen and not at all interested in receiving instruction from someone who was just two years older than he was. I found the three younger children delightful after a brief period of adjustment. The house was dark and depressing. You could almost sense evil waiting in the shadows. I know that sounds strange, but the house never seemed normal.”
“You felt that from the beginning?” I asked. “Even before Hillary went missing and Hudson was shot and killed?”
She nodded. “The house seemed to have its own energy. A negative energy that caused goose bumps on my arms whenever I was alone. I almost quit several times during my first week, but I could see the younger children were happy I was there. They seemed to want to spend time with me. They had a difficult life, and I felt I helped in some way, so I hung in despite my trepidation.”
“So you provided lessons for the younger three Harringtons,” I confirmed.
“Yes. Not only did I tutor them in the academic areas I’d been instructed to by the man who had hired me, but we spent time doing other things as well.”
“What sorts of things?” Tony asked.
