Sandrift: A Lin Hanna Mystery

by Sharon Canipe

  Signaling to a young woman who was filling urns to indicate he was leaving the register, the shop owner pulled up a chair and joined them.

  Tom had already explained their search. The owner looked at the picture Neal offered, comparing it to the one Tom had shown him.

  “I’m quite sure that’s the lady who was sitting right over in that far corner yesterday,” he said. “She seemed to have something on her mind when she came in. She was quiet, didn’t have much to say. Had a mug of dark roast and ordered a cranberry muffin, then got a refill on her coffee. I’d say she was here about forty-five minutes, maybe a bit longer.”

  “Did you talk to her? Did she mention where she was going when she left, or what she’d been doing before she came in?” Neal was hungry for information.

  “No, no,” the proprietor shook his head. “Like I said, she was real quiet, sorta thoughtful, I’d say. Just drank her coffee, ate, and left.”

  “About what time was she here?” Neal asked.

  “I’d say she came in about two or maybe a little after. It would’ve been close to three when she left.” He looked at the snapshots again, “Real pretty lady. I hope you find her soon,”

  “Me too,” Neal sighed, “me too.”

  The owner got up and returned to his post by the register. “I’m hungry,” Tom announced, “How ‘bout I get us a couple of sandwiches. I could use a break and I’m sure you could too. It’s lunchtime anyway.” He was already heading for the counter before Neal could say yes or no.

  Tom returned with the sandwiches and refilled their mugs.

  “There, that’s better,” he said, “hard to accomplish anything on an empty stomach. Besides, we’ve been canvassing out there in the rain for almost four hours now.”

  Neal nodded his agreement as he bit into a particularly flaky croissant loaded with chicken salad. “I’ve covered all my streets except for these shops along the waterfront. Nothing though.”

  “This was the first actual information I got,” Tom added. “I did all my streets and all of the shops on this side of the waterfront complex. That only leaves a couple of shops down the block.”

  “Yeah, and one of those is Mark Simon’s gallery and the Sheriff already talked to him. He said Lin came in to get her ring and left about three so we probably don’t need to go there.” Neal was beginning to feel frustrated again. The information provided by the coffee shop owner really hadn’t told them much at all.

  “Oh, I think we should go by the gallery anyway,” Tom suggested. “We know she went there but that’s all. Maybe she talked with someone other than Simon while she was there. She might’ve mentioned where she was going next or something. It’s worth a try.”

  Neal couldn’t disagree, although he was still feeling discouraged.

  When they’d finished eating, the two men headed back outside. The rain was still pouring down and showed no signs of letting up. “I thought this stuff would’ve ended by now,” Neal was beginning to lose hope, and the weather didn’t help his mood.

  “Not ‘til tomorrow, late tonight at the earliest,” Tom spoke with resilience as one used to this type of weather, “Now, lets get started. I’ll check those two small shops down the street near where they found her car. Why don’t you talk to the folks at that little café across the street, just in case someone might’ve seen her pass by, and then we can meet at the gallery. After that we can call for someone to pick us up.” He secured the top of his raincoat and headed out.

  ***

  Lin wasn’t sure how long she’d been pushing herself across the cabin floor, but her legs and back ached with the effort. She was exhausted. She lay against the door for several minutes, breathing deeply and trying to regain some strength. The rocking motion of the boat continued, but surprisingly, the nausea seemed to be gone. Maybe she was adjusting to the motion. She hadn’t eaten anything in a long time; she wasn’t sure how long. Maybe it helped to have an empty stomach.

  Having decided to rest before resuming her effort to stand up, she tried to remember what had happened to her. Her head still ached, but her thoughts were certainly clearer than they’d been earlier. The last thing she remembered was a room spinning around and everything going black. Where had she been? Who was she with? How did Mike Clark catch up with her?

  Finally, she began to recall what had happened. She’d gone to pick up her ring and been sent to the Simon home to get it. She’d met Mark’s wife who seemed to behave strangely from the start. She was a gardener and a beekeeper. Slowly it all came back—Millicent’s crazy words, her attack with the gardening shears, her reference to “taking care” of one of Mark’s lovers, the bee boxes on the shelf in the greenhouse, Mark rescuing her, drinking tea…

  Suddenly it all fell into place. The tea had been drugged. Somehow she’d been rendered unconscious and brought to this boat—wherever it was. Now she had a clearer picture of what might’ve happened to Dorrie Johnson. She couldn’t say what the details might’ve been, but she felt sure that Dorrie’s death was no accident. The sting she’d suffered had probably come from one of Millicent’s bees, and it might’ve been delivered via the bee box. That would account for the irregular bruise on Dorrie’s shoulder that seemed to match the size and pattern of the box. Dorrie had been drugged all right, but not on Thursday night, not for purposes of date rape. She’d been drugged at the Simon home—mostly likely by Millicent who must’ve thought she was getting rid of one of Mark’s many lovers.

  Lin realized that she didn’t have time right now to figure all this out. If she couldn’t escape this place, no one would ever be able to sort it out. Maybe they’d never figure out what happened to her either. She thought about Neal and about their newly formed plans for their future; she thought about her family coming next weekend for the holidays. I’ve got to do something she determined, and with renewed energy, she began striving to push herself up against the wall.

  She soon realized that the back and forth rocking of the boat could be used to her advantage. When the boat rocked forward it pushed her harder against the door. She tried shoving with her feet in rhythm with that, taking care to brace herself so she wouldn’t slide back with the opposite motion. It was slow, and she missed several times, but gradually she was able to attain an upright position. Now the trick was to avoid falling back down as she tried to navigate the short distance over to the desk.

  Finally, she was there. She noticed that the light in the cabin seemed to be dimmer than before. Were the clouds growing darker or had she already been working all day? Was nightfall coming?

  She braced her butt against the shelf that formed the desk and dug her feet into the carpet to try to maintain her position. Placing her wrists over the chain she began to move them back and forth in a sawing motion. At first she seemed to be getting nowhere, but eventually she heard a tearing sound; she’d made a break in her bonds. Focusing her efforts on that spot she tried to work harder. Her arms and legs ached mightily, but thankfully, she noticed that her previously injured shoulder seemed to be functioning properly.

  Finally she felt the tape break on one side. She slipped her wrists sideways, hoping to catch the edge of the tape against the chain. When she felt it snag, she began to pull, trying to force the tape away from her skin. The pulling made her wrists burn. She could only imagine what it was doing to her skin, but this was her only chance. She kept working the tape against the chain—pulling then working it more. Finally, her left hand sprang free. After that it was only a matter of minutes until she loosened the other hand and pulled the tape from her sore ankles.

  When she’d accomplished this, Lin stumbled back to the bed, sat down, and began to determine what she could do next. She waited until she felt steadier and then tried the door. The lock appeared to be solid. She probably wasn’t going to be able to get out that way. She began to search for other possibilities.

  It seemed to be growing steadily darker, and her ability to see her surroundings was sharply curtailed. She realized that there wa
s still a small amount of light coming in around the blinds on the window; she was free now and could open them. She carefully rocked her way over to that side of the cabin, following the cadence of the boat. She was getting used to this method of getting around. She got to the window and raised the blinds to the top. The window was larger than she’d originally thought, maybe three feet wide with half that height. She couldn’t see outside as it was too high, but it looked as if her body could easily fit through provided she could get up that high.

  There was nothing in the cabin to stand on other than the bed, which was on the wall opposite the window, and the small shelf of a desk, which was on the right wall but positioned somewhat to the left of the window. She wasn’t sure that the shelf would hold her weight, but she really had no other choice. The window was a slider and had only the usual type of flip lock. If she could reach it, she could open it, and if she could open it she might be able to escape. She didn’t know if the window rose over a deck or if it was right over the water. She might be able to see more if she could get up there.

  Lin carefully placed her butt on the shelf and slid back into it as if it were a bench seat. It creaked, but the chains held. She turned to one side and reached for the window ledge. It was too narrow to grasp, but she was able to press one hand against the glass to steady herself. Slowly she pushed herself back as far as she dared. Now her butt was only half on the desk, the chain pressing sharply into her back. She thought she felt it give a little, but still it held. She managed to draw her knees up enough to get her heels on the shelf. She knew she had to stand, and that might mean the end of her perch, but it was clearly her only choice. Bracing one hand against the window and pushing against the wall with the other, she managed to stand on tottery feet. So far the desk had held.

  Lin couldn’t see what she was doing; her face and body were pressed against the wall. With fumbling fingers she managed to release the lock on the window and slide it open. Immediately she felt a rush of wind and salt spray. Actually it felt good. She was hot and sweaty from her ordeal, but she quickly realized she would get cold once outside. Was she going to land on a deck or hit the water? She couldn’t see from her vantage point.

  Here goes, she thought. I’ll soon have my answer. She shifted so that she could grasp the window ledge with both hands and maneuvered her upper body so that it was positioned as close to the opening as possible. Gathering her remaining strength she shoved off from the desk, realizing that it collapsed as she did so, the chains pulling loose from the wall. She pressed hard against the ledge and shoved her shoulders through the opening. It was barely wide enough, but she managed. Now she could look down and see that there was a narrow walkway below her. If she didn’t flip out too far she could land there, otherwise it was over the rail into the water. This boat had to be moored to a dock somewhere, but she was facing the sound. If she managed to land on the walkway she could make her way to the other side where the dock had to be; otherwise, if she hit the water, she’d have to swim around and she wasn’t at all sure she had that much strength left. Once again she had to face the obvious fact that her options were quite limited.

  Lin realized that she had to move soon. The narrow window ledge was cutting into her palms and her toes were cramping from pressing against the cabin wall to maintain her balance. Taking a deep breath she gritted her teeth against the pain in her hands and pushed down hard hoisting herself through the window far enough to roll forward. Letting go of the ledge she dropped from the window praying she’d land on the decking below. She landed full force as if doing a belly flop, but she’d made it to the narrow walkway.

  ***

  Neal pulled his hood tighter around his head and headed for the café. Just as he’d thought, no one there recalled seeing Lin the day before. He was out of there in less than ten minutes, heading down the street toward the Simon Gallery. It was almost one-thirty. Lin had now been missing for almost twenty-four hours. Neal thought about all the things he’d read and heard about missing persons. If they weren’t found in the first twenty-four hours…He felt as if he couldn’t breathe and his eyes began to well. I can’t give up, he told himself. I can’t quit now.

  He arrived at the gallery before Tom did and decided to go on in to get out of the rain. In spite of the weather, the gallery had a decent number of customers. Apparently holiday shoppers weren’t easily discouraged from their task. Neal shed his slicker in the entryway to avoid dripping water all over the floor and placed it on a rack with some others.

  He looked around for Mark Simon, but he didn’t see him. A tired-looking gray haired lady was helping some customers with pottery, and a younger woman was manning the jewelry counter where a young couple was looking at rings. Neal turned away; the sight reminded him of shopping for Lin’s ring less than two weeks ago. In fact, today was the one-week anniversary of their engagement. He struggled to control his emotions. He couldn’t break down now. This was his last, best chance to get more information. Hopefully, Lin had talked to one of these folks. The older clerk was ringing up her sale so Neal approached the counter and waited patiently for her to finish. When her customers left, he stepped forward.

  “May I help you,” the woman replied, “are you looking for something special?”

  “Actually, I’m looking for someone special,” Neal said. “I believe my fiancé was here yesterday.” He pulled the photo from his pocket and placed it before her. “She picked up a ring that had been sent out to be sized earlier in the week.” He swallowed hard. “She didn’t come home last night and the Sheriff is trying to find her. I’d like to speak with Mr. Simon, if he’s in, or perhaps you might’ve talked to her?”

  “I do remember her,” the clerk said. “I helped her when she dropped the ring off and talked to her yesterday, as well. Mr. Simon isn’t in today, his wife is ill, but then he wasn’t here yesterday either,” her voice reflected a sense of imposition from being left without enough help. “I’m the one she talked to. She was here about two o’clock I’d say; I gave her directions to Mr. Simon’s home. He had picked up the ring, but hadn’t had a chance to bring it in because of his wife. She’s not been doing well lately. He’s been out a lot,” she complained, “and today we’re short another employee as well. The guy who handles all of our shipping, packing, and unpacking called in sick this morning.”

  An almost electric tingle ran up Neal’s spine. He couldn’t believe what he’d just heard. Mark Simon was lying about seeing Lin in the store. Without another word, he raced for the door, grabbing his slicker as he went out. He almost knocked Tom over when he pushed the door open.

  “Call Sheriff Midgett right now, we’ve got a break here.” He almost shouted at Tom. The older man began dialing immediately, passing his phone to Mark when he made a connection.

  “Get me Sheriff Midgett right away,” Neal realized he was almost shouting into the phone and tried to calm himself.

  “He’s not in the office at the moment, may I have him call you when he comes in,” the desk officer was at her professional best.

  “This is Neal Smith, it is imperative that I reach him right away. It’s about the missing woman, Lin Hanna.” Neal was insistent. The officer gave him Midgett’s cell phone number and told him he was still in town checking on the search himself.

  When Neal finally reached the Sheriff, he told him what they’d learned. “Whatever, Mark Simon told you isn’t true. He wasn’t even at work yesterday. The clerk sent Lin to his house to pick up her ring. That was about two o’clock according to her. Lin was at the coffee shop until almost three so she must’ve gone to the house after she left there. Regardless of the time, Simon never saw her at his gallery.”

  Pete Midgett was silent for a few moments. When he finally spoke his tone was serious. “I’m heading back to my office right now. I’ll swing by and pick you guys up. Meet me down at the corner where we found her car. It’s marked on your map. I should be there in less than five minutes.”

  Neal tried to remain calm as
he and Tom walked back down the street, but it was hard. It was almost two-thirty. The twenty-four hour mark since Lin went missing was almost here. While he realized that this was mostly symbolic, it had significance for him. Even now, with more definitive information, he was afraid. Tom seemed to sense his fear. He put his hand on Neal’s shoulder, “We’re finally making progress,” he said. “Don’t give up now. You need to stay strong for Lin. When we find her she’ll need your support.”

  His confident tone had a positive effect on Neal. He turned to Tom with a thankful smile. “I’m not going to give up. Now that we have more information, I think she’ll be found soon.” He was being truthful about not giving up, but deep inside he wasn’t sure what condition she might be in when she was found. It took a lot of effort to keep his worst fears at bay.

  Chapter 25

  The clock in Pete Midgett’s office indicated it was just past three when they arrived and settled into the comfortable chairs, glad for being inside and away from the continuing rain and wind. The circles under the Sheriff’s eyes had grown darker, but he seemed surprisingly energetic given the time he’d been on the job. As if to explain himself he said, “I had the chance to shower and change after lunch. At least I feel clean, if not rested.”

  Neal nodded in agreement. He was feeling pretty grungy himself, and Tom looked very tired at this point. “We covered the entire town, but the only places we found she’d been were the coffee shop and the gallery. Now it looks like she went to the Simon home…Look Sheriff, she’s been missing twenty-four hours now, and I’m really afraid something bad has happened to her. We need to find her soon.”

  The Sheriff picked up the phone on his desk. This time he got an outside line and dialed a number himself. They could hear the line ringing, but no one answered.