“And?”
She shook her head. “Christine didn’t make it. She lasted another month and that was it. She was gone. I thought her death was my fault, that I must have some kind of curse hanging over me. Two mothers dying had to be more than a coincidence. The curse must’ve followed me into these people’s lives. I was convinced it was true.”
He reached across the table and laid his hand over hers. “Oh, Hannah. You know better than that. There was never any curse involved. It’s called life.”
“Sure. I’m just a good luck charm waiting for the luck to kick in. But there wasn’t a whole lot of time for blame. Denton and I had a baby to take care of. That was the reality.” Her face changed from lines of despair to the beginnings of a smile. “I have the cutest sixteen-year-old little sister this side of the fault line, named Cassie.”
She chewed her lip again, a habit he noticed that reminded him of a sad little girl.
“The thing is, Denton kept me when he didn’t really have to. There were times he probably wanted to send me packing back into the system or send me off to some boarding school and be done with me for good.”
“But he didn’t.”
“No, he didn’t. He stuck with the single fatherhood thing and made it work. He went to a string of lousy dance recitals, a few very bad piano performances, countless Saturday softball games, and burned supper more times than I could ever count. But through it all he gave me everything he gave to Cassie, everything he could afford for both of us. He made sure his girls were clean and well fed, made sure we went to Sunday school and summer camp, and when it came time to graduate, he paid my way through four years at Cal Poly.”
“You adore them.”
“Oh yeah. I’d do anything for those two. But…” She laid a hand on her heart. “Inside here I have this need to find out what happened to Micah. A hole in my heart that can’t be filled by anything or anyone. Thankfully they understand this obsession I have to get at the truth. I’m not sure why it’s taken such a hold on me, but I can’t let Micah go without at least trying to make him part of my family again. I’d feel just awful if I didn’t give it my best shot.”
“Sounds perfectly reasonable to me. You’ve lived with this hanging over your head for most of your life. It won’t let go because Micah is still a huge part of who you are.”
She smiled at his understanding. “Not many people get it. I’ve had relationships that didn’t work out because my amateur detective work got old real fast. When I get in that mode, when I’m sitting at the computer for hours at a time, looking for something, and won’t let up, it’s hard to pull me back.”
“You ever hire a detective?”
She shook her head. “I’ve done most of the research myself. I’ve dug into the pasts of my birth parents, Robert and Laura Lambert, until I feel like I know every detail about them.”
She leaned across the space to get closer. “I don’t expect you to understand this, but I even drive that Suburban because it used to belong to my father. The SUV was sitting in the driveway the day it all happened. It’s the last image I have of that house. Outside everything seemed so…normal. But inside…I don’t even want to picture what kind of carnage a six-year-old could have walked in on, if not for everyone else already on the scene.”
Caleb took her hand. “How on earth did you ever find the Suburban though? It must’ve been like looking for a needle in a haystack.”
“I’m resourceful. One of my classmates had a father who worked at the DMV. After explaining my situation to him in detail, he tracked it down, got an address, and the next day I set out to find it.”
“Just like that?”
“Hey, once I turned eighteen I needed my own wheels.” She lifted a shoulder. “Denton had promised me if I could find one, he’d foot the bill. He had no idea I’d already located what I wanted. And it wasn’t even for sale. Before he could stop me, I’d wrangled a friend into driving me and we traipsed off to Big Sur to track down the Suburban. I spent my entire savings on it because first I had to sweet-talk the owner, a park ranger, into selling it to me. Imagine my horror when I discovered it had the original three-speed manual transmission.”
Caleb laughed. “And you were too stubborn to give up on the idea by then.”
“Oh yeah. I had to learn to drive that thing or eat crow. Turns out, it wasn’t that difficult once I got the hang of it and stopped stalling out.”
“So, all this time, you’ve played Nancy Drew hoping to find out something that leads you to what had happened to Micah?”
“It’s been an obsession—there’s no other word for it—that I can’t shake. I’ve spent years learning everything about my parents, where they both went to elementary school, where they went to high school, where they worked. I know where they went to church, even where they exchanged their vows. They weren’t bad people, Caleb. They’d never been arrested for so much as a parking ticket before that day. They’d never been in trouble with the law. They paid their taxes on time, worked hard, and mowed their grass every weekend like clockwork. Sure, my dad could yell and scream at times. But even then, if the cops came, they never once dragged my father off to jail. I checked. There was no drug use that I could turn up. And not much drinking involved. We didn’t have the money back then for a lot of extras like booze. As far as I’ve been able to tell, they were just two, ordinary, hardworking people who woke up one morning and the world as they knew it, exploded with rage and violence. After all these years, I still don’t understand it.”
“How can we ever really understand the mind of a sociopath or a psychopath?”
“Doesn’t mean I haven’t tried.”
Caleb thought it was time to change the subject. “So, you have a degree from Cal Poly? Impressive. Majoring in what?”
“Don’t laugh. Enology.”
He chuckled. “The study of wine.”
“Yep. Learning to grow grapes.”
“Why would I laugh at that?”
“Because most people do. After Christine died, Denton decided to chuck his nine to five job. He took Christine’s life insurance money and bought a winery, a small one outside San Mateo. We moved to the country permanently when I was twelve so Denton, Dad, could grow grapes.”
She narrowed her gaze on him. “Okay, Mr. Landscaper, it’s your turn. I’ve spilled my mysterious past that you so wanted to know. You’ve learned all my so-called secrets. My mysterious side is no longer so mysterious.”
“What else could you possibly want to know about me? You already know my predetermined genetics. The stuff running through my veins is inherited directly from a narcissistic psychopath. It’s not exactly something I usually tell my dates, let alone coming clean like this on the first.”
Under the table, she bumped his knee with hers. “Technically it’s our second date. Let’s hope neither one of us inherited any predisposition for that kind of violence. Tell me something simple, something benign, like where you went to school.”
“That one’s easy. UC Davis. Got a degree in horticulture like Landon, like Shelby.” He leaned back in his chair. He thought he’d be able to let her story go, but it, so much like his own, fascinated him. “I think I’m beginning to get the picture. You came here to find Micah, didn’t you? Something or someone led you to believe that your brother’s living here?”
She winced at the question and it changed her demeanor. But she put her wine glass down and cleared her throat. “I’m here because about four months back one of those ghosts you mentioned earlier started bugging me and wouldn’t let me rest until I packed my bags and headed south.”
“Whoa. That’s a story in itself.”
“It’s nuts. Dad and Cassie thought I might be losing it.”
“I bet. Are you planning to tell me the rest?”
“Hey, since graduating college—and for the past three years—I’ve had a pretty normal life working at Denton’s winery. It’s doing okay, not great, but he and Cassie and I get by. Everything was fine un
til one day I was out in the field with one of the growers and I looked up and there was this man I recognized from a couple of dreams I’d had. Only this time it wasn’t the middle of the night. There I was in broad daylight and this guy is just standing there watching me. With the sun at his back, he had sort of a halo-looking circle over his head. At least that’s what I thought at the time. That guy turned out to be Scott Phillips. Your Scott Phillips from Pelican Pointe. After that day, he started showing up regularly. Each time, he’d spout the same message. ‘Micah is still waiting for you to find him.’ Which got my attention. And then he’d disappear until the same thing happened the next day and the next. This went on for about a month. For a while there, I thought I might be losing my mind. For real. I even checked to see if my birth parents, if Robert or Laura, had any type of insanity in their family tree.”
“But they didn’t?”
“None that I could find.”
“Wow. So, based on a message from a ghost, you packed up your Suburban and came down here, just like that, because of what Scott said to you?”
“Sounds crazy, doesn’t it?”
“No, not crazy. Like I said before, eerie.”
“Oh, well, you want to hear something really eerie, there’s more.”
He sat up straighter in his chair. “Sure.”
“I don’t think my father was the one who did the killing that day. I remember he could be a little nutty at times, a little volatile, a little loud, but at the end of the day, he loved my mother. I don’t think he would’ve ever killed her. And I don’t think he would’ve ever taken his own life.”
“Then who? Ah. The woman who took Micah. She shot them both to get to Micah. Murdered two people. Kidnapped the baby. And she conveniently makes the scene look like a murder/suicide.”
“You got it. But why? And how do I prove it? Because right now I have nothing. After all these years of looking, I have absolutely zip, zero, not a thing concrete to prove my dad didn’t kill anyone. And how would I ever find out the identity of who that woman really is. Some days I feel it may go unsolved forever and I’ll never find Micah.”
“You know what they say about a hunch, right? Follow it until it no longer exists as a hunch, put it to rest. That way you’ve proved the hunch wrong. What you have, Hannah, is great intuition. We just sat here over dinner tonight and proved that.”
“Uh huh. And maybe we both have it. What do you have to say about that?”
“That we had lousy traumatic events occur before we were adopted.”
“You can do better than that.”
“I believe I can, but not with you sitting way over there.”
“This is where you put me. You did the seating arrangement.”
Without warning, he blurted out. “I talk to Scott, too. About six months ago he approached me in my study. He usually shows up there about the same time of night. The first time it occurred it was after I’d broken up with a woman. I thought he was trying to console me in some way. Now, I’m not so sure. Maybe it was all about you coming here.”
“I knew it! I knew you were hiding something! What was his message to you?”
“Simple at first but vague. He told me I needed to focus on my work and put aside the social aspects for a while.”
“Social aspects? You mean, like dating? How strange.”
“Yeah. He talked about me waiting for the right woman to come along some day. I think he was talking about you.”
“Whoa. Wait a minute. I’m just here to find the connection to Micah.”
“Let me guess, Scott treats this like a scavenger hunt where he drops little nuggets of information in hopes of stringing you along with just enough to keep you on the hook.”
“That’s why you need to keep in mind that when I’m done I’ll be heading back to the winery to work for Denton.”
“Sure, I understand.” But he shook his head and smiled. “Frankly, I’m glad I got that admission off my chest. It’s embarrassing to confess that I talk to a man who’s been dead for several years.”
Hannah let out a low sigh. “I know. But I can’t focus on the dead part. I have to focus on Scott leading me to what I want to know.” She stood up to start clearing the table.
Caleb joined her at the sink. “I say we start a fire and listen to some music, see where the mood takes us.”
She poked a finger in his chest. “I’m not sleeping with you on our first date, Caleb. But I am interested in something you’ve got.”
He yanked her against him. She smelled like a walk through a thousand orange blossoms. “It would surprise me if you weren’t. Many women can’t resist my…charm and good looks.”
She stifled a chuckle. “As drawn as I am to your charm, I was referring to your video game collection. If I’m not mistaken I spotted a vintage version of Pac-Man in there, just waiting for someone like me to play it.”
“Hmm, sounds reasonable enough. What if I told you I also have Goldeneye 007?”
“Get out! With multi-player death-match mode?”
“That’s the original version, baby. No true gamer would be caught without death match mode.”
“Then what are we waiting for? Shooter to shooter, the challenge is on.”
The rest of the evening they spent playing an assortment of videos. He reigned supreme at Star Wars while she kicked his ass at Goldeneye. They bonded over Jedi lore and dragons, before moving on to prehistoric dinosaurs. They talked about Nintendo versus Atari and the dawn of Xbox.
By the time, Caleb drove her back to her house, the rain had stopped. The clouds had moved further east, leaving the sky crystal clear. The stars had popped out like a string of giant diamond bracelets, layered and glittering bright, twinkling down from the heavens above them.
From where they stood on the driveway, they could almost hear the waves lapping against the pier straight down Crescent Street.
Hannah angled her head skyward. “I had fun tonight. Thanks. It wasn’t as bad as I thought it would be talking about all that stuff with you.”
“Same here.” He drew her closer, tilted her chin up. “I’ve decided to wait for the traditional, but lame third date to sleep with you.”
She snorted with laughter. “Oh really. That’s big of you, almost saintly even.”
“Saintly I’m not,” Caleb admitted. To prove it, he crushed his mouth to hers. A burst, brighter than any star, surged high and hot. The moment he let go, he rested his head on her brow. “Are you sure you want to wait?”
“You’re the one who mentioned the third date. Besides, there are reasons we should.”
“Yeah. But right now, I’m having a hard time coming up with one.”
“Small town, people talk. I’ve already risen to number one by knocking off Nellie. I don’t want to stay at the top because I’m boinking the hunky landscaper.”
“Talking dirty is no way to get me to leave.”
She cupped the back of his neck and brought his lips down to meet hers again. The heat spiked. The air heated. “Okay, so we have chemistry. One excellent reason to slow things down before jumping in the sack.”
“I was afraid you’d see it that way.” He held on to her hand, brought it to his lips. “One thing you need to know. You’re worth the wait.”
Six
Caleb started his day early at Bradford House with his mind on Hannah. He’d discovered her quirky personality also came with an off-the-wall sense of humor and an outlook on life that many would call fearless.
As he worked the bobcat into position, he started the process of digging out the first plot of earth that would become the flower garden.
In his estimate, the little bobcat worked faster and better than any backhoe ever could. Landon preferred using the backhoe. But over the years Caleb had found that digging with the smaller machinery proved more versatile on a job site. With the digger attachment, he could dig trenches, loosen hard-packed soil, remove stubborn rocks and stumps, all without ever stopping to remove and replace the atta
chment.
That’s why he was surprised when the thicket of trees proved to be a bit of a problem maneuvering between each large cypress to scoop out the soil.
As he performed the mindless work, his mind drifted again to Hannah. What other woman would spend an entire evening in front of an almost twenty-year-old video game and enjoy herself? He didn’t know many females who would even have suggested passing the time like that, let alone been happy about it.
Sometimes during the work, he’d glance up from the chore to enjoy the sunlight dancing off the water, reminding him that January in Pelican Pointe didn’t come close to the freezing cold back east. From his vantage point next to the cliffs, the view gave him a beautiful perspective of the ocean.
There wasn’t a cloud in the sky as he sat back and directed the equipment to scoop up sections of dirt around the old trellis.
It took about an hour to carve out the right length and width before he moved on to another section. The area near the boulders proved difficult. Mainly because someone at some point had taken the trouble to pile them up near the corner of the house. It took another hour to take each large rock and move it to another part of the yard where the stone could easily be loaded and carted off. Once he finally got down to the dirt left underneath, he started to scoop out what was left of the ground. He was working on a nice size hole, lifting out chunks of the earth, when something small and white appeared in his line of vision.
He cut the engine and hopped down to take a closer look. Caleb stood frozen for several seconds, staring into the carved out mass of dirt, unable to move. When he did come out of his daze, he reached in his pocket for his cell phone. Still staring at what he’d uncovered, he waited for Brent Cody to pick up on the other end.
“Hey, Brent, this is Caleb Jennings. I’m over at Bradford House, clearing some land. I think you need to drop what you’re doing and get over here, quick. I think I’ve discovered what looks like bones, remains.”
Beneath Winter Sand Page 7
