A Haunted Twist of Fate

by Stacey Coverstone

  Shay’s heart broke in half. The story was so tragic all the way around. Poor Frank. His only child had been killed and laid to rest in a cemetery so far away. He’d borne the brunt of his wife’s suffering, as well as keeping his own agony hidden from friends and his community for so long. She wanted to comfort him, to assure him he’d see his daughter again, in the next world. But she didn’t think it would be appropriate to speak of such personal matters with a near stranger, even if she did look like his deceased child.

  “I’m sorry.” She wiped the traces of her own salt tears from her cheek. She turned when Opal plodded into the room with heavy footsteps.

  “Visiting hours are over,” Opal announced, as if they were in a hospital. “It’s Frank’s bedtime. Time for you two to go.”

  “Don’t get your bowels in an uproar.” Colt frowned at Opal. “I guess Frank can tell us when he’s ready for bed.”

  Shay saw Colt nonchalantly shove the letter into his back pocket.

  “I am a bit tired now,” Frank said.

  “We’ll go,” Shay announced, tucking the covers up to this neck. “Thank you for telling us about Alicia. I know it wasn’t easy for you to talk about her, and her death.”

  “Rest now,” Colt told Frank. “Take it easy. I’ll be back to see you soon.” He patted the man’s shoulder.

  “Easy? How else would I take it, Colt? I’m stuck in this goddamned bed all day and night.” A hint of a smile crossed the old man’s lips and then he closed his eyes.

  Colt bent and kissed him on the cheek, which took Shay’s breath away. What a sweet gesture. And Frank wasn’t even his own flesh and blood. She offered Colt a tender smile. Little actions like that were what reaffirmed that he was a man any woman would be proud to be loved by.

  Once they were back in her car driving down the road, Colt asked if she was feeling okay. Shay nodded, aware that she’d been lost in thought.

  “You look like you’re a million miles away,” he said.

  “Do you think it’s simply another coincidence that Alicia Averill died and is buried in Chicago?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “We look enough alike to be related, and I was raised in Illinois, in a suburb outside of Chicago. Don’t you find that strange?”

  “Well…”

  “And who were those anonymous people anyway? The ones who generously paid for a funeral and a headstone for Alicia? Do you believe what the police chief told Frank? If Chief McGinty found Frank and Bonnie’s address in Alicia’s belongings, he knew she came from here. Why didn’t he go to greater lengths to contact them before Alicia was put in the ground? He could have called the local police department and had them get word to Frank if Frank’s phone was out. Why didn’t that happen?” Shay glanced over and could tell Colt’s mind was working with questions, too. “Something isn’t right. I’m going to do some investigating. Frank deserves to know the truth.”

  “The truth about what?”

  Shay pulled into Colt’s driveway and shifted the vehicle into park. “About why Alicia was interred before he and Bonnie could get to Chicago. That seems unethical to me. It rings of a cover up.”

  Colt shifted in his seat to face her. “Who would want to cover up Alicia’s death? She was just a young girl who’d run away from home to be with the guy she loved.”

  “I don’t know, but I’m sure going to try to find out. For Frank’s sake.”

  “You like the old man,” Colt said, grasping her hand.

  “Yes, I do. He’s suffered so much. He deserves to know the truth, whatever that might be.”

  “I’ll help if I can.”

  “You will?”

  “Yes. Whatever you need, you can count on me.”

  “Thank you, Colt.”

  When he leaned in and placed a soft kiss on her lips, she didn’t resist this time.

  Thirty-Eight

  Colt sat at his desk the next morning with the letter addressed to Frank and Bonnie Averill lying open in front of him. Something about Frank’s story had been nagging at him. Mostly he’d been thinking about the city in which Alicia apparently died, and the year she was killed. The date on the letter was 1977, thirty-three years ago. Shay had been born thirty-three years ago and raised in Illinois. Was it another twist of fate?

  He picked up the phone and punched in the number for the Chicago police department that was printed at the top of the stationery. Chances were Police Chief McGinty was long retired, but maybe someone would know how to get in touch with him. Colt had a few questions that he suspected only the chief could answer.

  A deep, raspy female voice answered. “Chicago PD. How can I help you?”

  “Chief McGinty, please.”

  “The chief’s name is Halloran, sir. Do you want me to connect you to his office?”

  “No,” Colt said. “I’m trying to reach Trevor McGinty.”

  There was a pause on the other end of the line. “There’s no Trevor McGinty here, sir. We have a Detective Terry McGinty. Want me to ring his desk?”

  “Yes. Thank you.”

  Colt tapped the tip of a pencil on the desktop as he waited for the call to go through. Terry, no doubt, was related to Trevor. Colt wondered if he’d cooperate and tell him how he could reach his father, or grandfather, or whoever the chief was to him.

  “Officer Howard.”

  Colt stopped tapping. “I’m trying to reach Officer Terry McGinty. Someone at the front desk was connecting me.”

  “Hold on.” Colt heard the man shout, “McGinty! Pick up the phone.”

  There was a lot of background noise, voices, and then a click. Had he been disconnected? Hell. He was about to hang up and call back when a voice said, “Terry McGinty.”

  Cole put down the pencil and straightened his back. “Hello, Detective. My name is Colt Morgan and I’m calling from South Dakota.”

  “Yeah? What can I do for you?”

  “I’m in possession of a letter written by Police Chief Trevor McGinty back in 1977. I’m trying to reach the chief to ask him some questions about a case he worked that year involving the daughter of a friend of mine. Are you related to him, by any chance?”

  “Trevor’s my uncle. What’d you say your name was again?”

  “Colton Morgan.” He felt his gut jump. Maybe he was closer than he imagined to helping Shay get to the bottom of the mystery surrounding Alicia Averill and learn how, or if, there was some connection to her and the Averills.

  “It’s very important that I speak to Chief McGinty,” he said, keeping his voice calm and controlled. “Do you know how I might be able to get in touch with him?”

  “I’m sorry, Mr. Morgan, but that’s not possible. My uncle’s been dead for ten years.

  The air whooshed from Colt’s lungs. Damn. The secret involving Alicia had probably been buried with McGinty.

  “Sorry I couldn’t be of more help,” the detective said.

  Colt thought fast. “Maybe you still can be of help, Detective. Would you have access to the files your uncle worked on thirty-three years ago?”

  The man chuckled. “No, sir. Those would be stored in a warehouse downtown. That was way before computers, you know. It’d take a miracle to dig through all the records, let alone find the boxes holding the file for the particular case you’re inquiring about. I’m sorry, but it would be almost impossible to locate, even if we had the manpower to conduct a search for you, which we don’t.”

  Sighing, Colt was about to thank the detective and acquiesce to the fact that they might never know the true circumstances surrounding Alicia Averill’s life and death in Chicago, when an idea struck him. He might be grasping at straws, but he couldn’t give up without trying all avenues. A strong feeling hinted that Shay settling in South Dakota had been more than happenstance.

  “Detective, my friend was told, back in 1977, by your uncle, that there were some people who often paid for funerals of deceased individuals who were in unfortunate circumstances or without family to pay for their
funeral. Would anyone in the department or your family know anything about that?”

  McGinty said, “Hmmm. It’s odd that you should mention that.”

  “Odd? Why?”

  “I recently heard my aunt talking about a couple who have been doing that very thing for many years here in Chicago. I was at my cousin’s kid’s birthday party when I heard her discussing some newspaper article with relatives.”

  Colt’s leg started to jump. “Your aunt?”

  “Uncle Trevor’s widow. Aunt CeCe.”

  “What, specifically, did your aunt say about this couple? Do you remember?”

  “Sure. She said it was a shame that the husband and wife had both passed. That the community was certainly going to miss them. They’d done so much for the homeless and the unfortunate through the years.”

  Both had passed. That was another disappointing blow. Colt had thought he’d be able to contact them and ask more questions. He held his head in his hands. How would he ever learn why Alicia Averill had been buried so fast and before her parents had even been contacted about her death? None of this set right with him.

  He pumped his fist in an attempt to relieve nervous tension. He was almost afraid to ask the next question. It might not matter anyway, but he needed the satisfaction of an answer.

  “Detective McGinty, did your aunt mention the name of these civic-oriented people, by any chance?”

  “She might have, but I left the room while the conversation was still going on. I’d only gone into the house to get more beer.”

  Pounding his fist on the desk, Colt swore under his breath. Dammit! Why couldn’t anything be easy? There had to be another way to find out who those good Samaritans were. His mind raced.

  “Mr. Morgan.”

  Having forgotten he was still hanging on the phone, Colt heard McGinty in his ear and wondered if he’d heard him cuss.

  “Sorry, Detective. I was distracted for a moment.”

  “No problem. Look. If it’s that important to you, I can call up my aunt and ask her the names of those people. Give me your phone number and I’ll call you back.”

  That was easy. Why hadn’t he thought of that? Colt gave him his cell phone number and thanked the detective.

  “I’ll be in touch soon,” McGinty promised.

  “This is going to be a big help. I appreciate it.”

  As soon as Colt hung up, he dialed Shay. After five rings, the phone went to voice mail. He left a message, glanced at his watch, and locked up the office to head to an appointment.

  Thirty-Nine

  Shay had just finished her coffee when someone pounded on the front door. Who’d be calling so early? Shay felt her mouth drop open when she flung the door open. The visitor on the other side was completely unexpected.

  “Dawn! It’s nice to see you again.”

  Brady’s fiancé didn’t look happy. In fact, her eyes were puffy and red, like she’d been crying. “Hi, Shay. Hope you don’t mind that I stopped by.”

  “Of course I don’t. Please come in.” She welcomed Dawn inside and asked if she cared for a glass of water or juice, knowing caffeine wasn’t good for a baby.

  “I sure could use a beer,” Dawn said.

  Shay wondered if she was joking and was relieved when Dawn patted her stomach and smiled. “I’m just teasing. I know I can’t drink with the baby coming, especially at this hour of the morning, but I really could use a beer.”

  “Couldn’t we all?” Shay joked back. “Please have a seat.” She scooted out a chair.

  “Thanks.” Dawn sniffled and sat. “You’re probably wondering why I’m here.”

  “Well, you look to be upset. Do you want to talk?”

  “Yeah. I guess I do. I liked you right off when we met at Brady’s birthday party. You’re so different from me. You’re from the big city and have traveled all over the country. The farthest I’ve been is to Deadwood.” She looked around the room. “You bought this saloon on your own? I could never do something like that. I wouldn’t know how to begin. And I don’t have the money.”

  Shay wasn’t sure what to say, so she said nothing; just smiled.

  “It’s cool you’re dating Colt. He’s a good guy.” It was obvious that Dawn was creating small talk.

  “We’re not exactly dating,” Shay said, not feeling the need to explain further. She could tell Dawn was stalling to avoid discussing why she was there.

  Shay hadn’t spent enough time with the woman to develop much of an opinion of her, but she didn’t want to hurt her feelings. She’d only learned a few things about Dawn’s life on the night of the party. She remembered thinking that Dawn hadn’t seemed interested in making a new friend, and she also hadn’t acted concerned about making a good impression on Mr. and Mrs. Morgan. She’d barely strayed from Brady’s side all evening and cracked her gum like a rude teenager. But right now, she looked so young and sad and in need of a friend that Shay couldn’t refuse the girl’s reaching out.

  “Did you and Brady get into an argument?” she dared to ask.

  Dawn shook her head. “No. Brady’s so cool. We hardly ever fight. He’s laid back about most things.”

  “I got that impression.” If it wasn’t because of trouble with Brady, then why was Dawn here?

  She finally got to the point. “I came to you, Shay, because you were nice to me the other night. I only have a couple of good friends and they’ve never had this problem. Not to say that you have,” she added quickly. “I don’t mean to imply…”

  Dawn’s shoulders sagged, and Shay became even more curious. She looked so lonely, so lost, staring at Shay with round, wet doe eyes.

  Shay patted her hand. “Why don’t you tell me what’s wrong, and I’ll try my best to give you advice, if I’m able.”

  Dawn lowered her gaze. “It’s about the baby.”

  Shay inhaled slowly and a terrible thought occurred to her. Oh, no. Please don’t tell me this isn’t Brady’s baby.

  Dawn’s eyes filled with tears. “This baby is…is…”

  Shay had just said she’d help, but why did the girl have to come to her with this information? She had enough of her own troubles to worry about. She grabbed Dawn’s hand and blurted, “People make mistakes, honey. If Brady’s willing to raise the child as his own, that’s all that matters. No one else needs to know. I’ll keep your secret.”

  Dawn sniffed again and tilted her head. “What do you mean, you’ll keep my secret? What are you talking about?”

  “Uh. Aren’t you trying to tell me that Brady isn’t the father of your baby?”

  “What?” Dawn’s eyes bulged. “What gave you that idea? I’m upset because I don’t think I can have this baby.”

  “Pardon me?”

  “I don’t know how to be a good mother. And I don’t like getting fat either. Look!” She lifted her top to show how the button on her jeans popped open. “I’m going to have to start wearing maternity clothes any day now. I’m going to get as big as a barn!”

  As Dawn began to sob, Shay stared, both relieved and confused. She suspected Dawn was less worried about getting big and more concerned about what kind of a parent she was going to be. And why wouldn’t she be worried? It was a huge responsibility to bring life into the world. Giving birth was only where it began. Raising a child to become a good human being was the hard part.

  Shay could picture Colt as a father. He came from good stock. He’d teach his children the important things in life and give them plenty of love. Shay’s parents had been great role models, too, which is why she wanted children. Her mind wandered, moving forward into the future, where she could imagine her and Colt and their little family living a fairytale life.

  Dawn jiggled her arm to bring her back to reality. “Did you hear what I said?” she asked. “I’m scared.”

  Shay smiled. “You’ve got yourself a good man in Brady. His parents seem to have done a good job raising him, so I think he’ll make a fine dad. The two of you can figure things out together. And I wouldn’t
worry about the baby weight,” she added. “Your body is going to change, but you’ll change with it. I’ve never been pregnant, but I’m positive the love for your child will grow along with your belly.”

  She slipped out of her chair and knelt to become at eye level with Dawn and wiped the tears from her cheek, like a mother or sister would. “When your baby’s born, you’ll hold him or her in your arms, and your life will be different from that moment on. You’ll be a family, you and Brady and your baby. You’ll look into your baby’s eyes, and the instinct to protect and care for him will be as natural as breathing. The love you’ll feel will be like nothing you’ve ever experienced before. That love is what will make you a wonderful mother.”

  Dawn’s lips curved into a weak smile. “You really think I’ll be a good mother? I don’t know anything about mothering. My own mama wasn’t much of one.”

  Shay placed her hand on Dawn’s arm, realizing this was her true fear. “Hannah’s a good woman. If you ask, I know you’ll be able to count on her for help.”

  After some contemplation, Dawn scooted back from the table and stood. “You think? I wasn’t sure Miss Hannah even liked me much.”

  “Of course she does. I know she’s looking forward to being a grandma. You might want to get to know her better. This baby can bring you two closer.”

  “What about you?” Dawn asked. “Will you help me, too? You seem to know a lot about babies.”

  Dawn seemed like a good kid. She just needed the right guidance in making that giant leap from carefree girl to responsible adult. Shay could be her friend, even if she wasn’t involved with Colt or his family.