The Last Sister

by Elliot, Kendra

  33

  Sheriff Greer insisted they knock on the door again at Harlan Trapp’s home. Zander was hesitant. It had worked well with Billy, but trying it twice was pushing their luck.

  “He knows me,” Greer stated. “And the sheriff showing up on a night when most of the town is out of power won’t surprise him one bit. He’ll let me in.”

  “Power’s out over there,” Edwards said.

  “Then he’ll be happy I have a flashlight.”

  Zander had pulled the sheriff aside after a deputy arrived to take Billy Osburne to jail. “Billy pointed his finger at the mayor. How do you feel about that?”

  The sheriff looked thoughtful. “What I feel doesn’t matter. It’s a serious accusation and needs to be followed up.”

  “But can you see him doing what Billy says?”

  “Fuck no. I’ve known Harlan most of my life. Nicest guy imaginable. I expect we’ll find out that Billy is full of shit, and I look forward to my next discussion with Billy. Hopefully he’ll be more inclined to tell us the truth. Either way, he’s admitted to murdering Nate and Sean Fitch.” Fury colored the sheriff’s tone.

  “Think his brother was involved?” asked Zander.

  “Next on my list.”

  Even with the sheriff’s confidence, the four of them took the same positions as for the door knock at Billy’s. Harlan Trapp’s home wasn’t deep in trees. It was part of a small subdivision with close neighbors. Luckily, no one had fenced yards. Zander and Edwards were close to each other near Harlan’s back door. It was pitch-dark. No lighting at all. The mayor’s little neighborhood looked like a town that’d been lost to zombies.

  The sheriff parked in Harlan’s driveway, and Zander waited.

  Edwards’s mic crackled. “No one’s answering,” said the sheriff. “And his car isn’t in the garage.”

  “Knocking on the back door,” answered Edwards.

  Zander exhaled, and they both closed in on the sliding glass door to Harlan’s patio. Edwards rapped on the glass with his flashlight. “Mr. Trapp! You home? Clatsop County Sheriff’s Department.”

  A dog barked a few homes away, but no noise came from the house. Edwards repeated the knock and announcement.

  “Seems like no one’s here,” said Zander as he finally looked through the door and gave the handle a small tug. Locked. He could make out furniture shapes inside but nothing else.

  “Checking windows,” said the sheriff over Edwards’s mic. “Coming around the south side, Daigle’s on the north.”

  A few moments later the four of them convened in the backyard.

  “I checked the front door,” Daigle said. “It was locked.”

  “Same with the back door.”

  “I’ll head back to the station and see if Billy will talk a little more,” said the sheriff. “You two get out the word with Harlan’s license plate number and vehicle description,” Greer said to his deputies. “If anyone spots it, they’re to let me know first.”

  “I’ll see if he’s at the diner,” said Zander. “That seems to be a meeting place when the power is out.”

  “Keep me updated,” answered the sheriff.

  Zander scanned the diner but didn’t see the bald head of Harlan Trapp. He took the small hallway to the office and found Dory sitting in a chair, happily flipping through photos. He recognized the folder that Simon Rhoads had given Emily. Zander liked the woman he thought of as Aunt #3. She was a little spacey but good-hearted and kind. She wore the same pale-yellow, thick sweater he’d seen earlier on her sisters.

  “Evening, Dory, where’s Emily at?”

  Her fact lit up as she saw him. “Special Agent Zander! How lovely to see you again. We need to have you back to the mansion for tea soon—well, as soon as we get power back. One time we lost power for five days. It was horrible.” She held up a picture. “Can you tell which is me?”

  The photo of the four elegant women made him smile. “You’re the third. You looked a lot like Madison at that age.”

  “So you’re saying I was a hottie?” She winked.

  “Definitely. Did Emily—”

  “I don’t know where Emily got this file of photos, but it’s brought back so many memories of when we were young. Now we get the senile-citizen rate,” she said with laugh.

  He winced, remembering that Simon had specifically asked Emily to not show it to Dory. “I imagine it has.” He glanced at the photos spread across the desk, and one caught his attention, bringing a grin. “Is that the sheriff?” The men in the picture portrayed a group camaraderie that Zander had never experienced. He estimated that most were in their thirties or late twenties, fishing poles and tackle boxes at their feet. The sheriff was easy to pick out; he was as gaunt as he was today.

  “Oh yes. That is Merrill. Can you guess who this is?” She pointed at a man.

  Considering he’d been in town only five days, Zander wasn’t surprised he couldn’t place him. He shook his head.

  She shuffled the photos. “Here’s a better one.”

  It had been taken at the same time with the same men, but the face of the man she’d indicated was clearer. He struggled to place it.

  “That’s Lincoln. The girls’ dad.”

  Now Zander recognized the man. He looked closer, recognizing that Emily had his eyes. Lincoln’s hand caught his attention, and Zander tensed, ice filling his limbs. He immediately checked the hands of the rest of the men.

  “Fuck,” he whispered. He slid around the photos on the desk, finding two others that had been taken at the same time and comparing them.

  “Dory, who is this?”

  She studied the man. “Why that’s our mayor, Harlan Trapp. I forgot he used to have hair.” She giggled. “And there is Simon—he was a looker back then. Too bad he wasn’t interested in me then. I might have said yes.”

  “Who are the other people?”

  “Well, there’s Rod Barton—he’s Brenda’s brother. Merrill Greer. I don’t know the others.”

  Harlan Trapp stood next to Sheriff Greer, his right hand in front of his stomach, pointing at the sheriff with two fingers and his thumb. Lincoln Mills and the two men Dory didn’t know were making the same gesture.

  A KKK hand sign.

  Harlan Trapp was a white supremacist. Along with Emily’s father.

  It added a little weight to Billy’s assertion that Harlan had killed Sean Fitch.

  Dammit. He wished Ava weren’t out of commission. Zander needed to discuss this with someone. Now.

  His gaze locked on Sheriff Greer, clearly buddies with the other men. No hand sign.

  Was he part of it?

  Do I tell him what I just discovered about the mayor?

  The photos were twenty-five years old. They could mean nothing.

  “Dory, where is Emily?”

  “She and Madison are running an errand in this cockamamie weather. Picking up a fabulous surprise for my sisters.”

  “Madison went with her?”

  “Yes.”

  At least she had taken her sister.

  Who can I trust? He felt ill that he now had doubts about Sheriff Greer.

  Did the sheriff warn Harlan Trapp that we were going to his home?

  Vina.

  Emily’s aunt knew everything about everybody. But would she talk to him? Without holding back? “Thanks, Dory.”

  He left the office and hunted down Vina. She was on the floor, chatting at a table with a large family. Five kids. “Vina, can I talk to you in the kitchen?” She excused herself and followed him. Thea noticed and tagged along. The two women had curious looks as he led them to a quiet corner and showed them the photos of the group of men. “Can you identify these men?”

  The two women exclaimed over the photos, stating they’d never seen them before. They confirmed all of Dory’s identifications, and, like Dory, couldn’t name two of the men. “I think those guys were from the coast guard,” suggested Thea.

  “No. I’m pretty sure they’re friends of Lincoln’s
from Portland,” countered Vina. “I remember this person. He upset Brenda about something.”

  Thea moved her nose nearly to the picture and then agreed with Vina. “Portland folks.” Her nose wrinkled as she said it.

  “I’m Portland folks,” Zander said, curious as to the distaste in Thea’s tone.

  “But you’re a nice guy,” Thea said earnestly. “You treat our Emily well.”

  He nearly coughed.

  Vina nodded. “We’ve seen it.”

  “And these guys weren’t nice?”

  “I wish Lincoln hadn’t hung around with them,” added Thea. “Things might have been different.”

  “You need to explain.”

  The women looked at each other and shrugged. “You know,” added Vina, as if that answered everything.

  They know what he was.

  “Look here.” Zander pointed at Lincoln’s hands. “See anything odd?”

  The women studied the photo. “No.”

  “What if I told you he’s making a white supremacist hand signal?”

  Neither woman flinched.

  That tells me more than anything they’ve said.

  “If that’s so, then three others are doing the same,” said Thea.

  “Correct.” Zander waited a long moment. “You once told me this town had an ugly underbelly, Vina. I took it as there was some racism, but did you know these men were associated with that sort of hate?”

  The women were quiet.

  He took that as a yes. “Your mayor, Harlan Trapp. What do you know about him?” He studied the women as he waited for an answer. Vina was better at hiding her thoughts, her appearance calm and serene. Thea was twitchy, her gaze unable to settle anywhere.

  “There were rumors,” Vina finally said. “There are always rumors . . . about everybody.”

  “I suspect you know which rumors to ignore and which to give a little more credence to.”

  Thea licked her lips, her right leg bouncing. “Harlan attended those meetings.”

  “What meetings?”

  “In Portland. Lincoln went to them too. But he’d been raised by parents who believed the same. When he moved here from North Carolina, I think he felt like a fish out of water. He found what he needed with this group in Portland. And as long as he kept it to himself, we tolerated him with Brenda—we primarily had issues with the way he manipulated her. She wouldn’t stand up for herself. But every now and then, his group would come to the coast and be obnoxious—no hoods and white robes, of course. They didn’t do that sort of thing, but they’d drink and cause havoc in town—just blowing off steam like men do.”

  Zander bit his tongue. He’d never blown off steam that way. But apparently the women had tolerated Lincoln Mills as long as he kept his active racism behind closed doors.

  It was a different generation.

  “Did this Portland group have a name?” asked Zander.

  The women considered. “Not that I remember,” said Thea. Vina agreed.

  “Did all the men in the picture belong to Lincoln’s Portland group?” he asked.

  “Oh, no. I’m sure Lincoln and Harlan were just hamming it up,” said Vina. “Probably showing off. They liked to talk the big talk, you know.”

  Boys will be boys.

  “What about Sheriff Greer? What was his reputation?”

  Vina tipped her head and looked at Thea thoughtfully. “Merrill was always a quiet one. Not the brightest man, but dependable.” Thea nodded in agreement.

  “So you don’t know if he was a member of this Portland group.”

  “Correct.”

  “Thank you,” said Zander. The women went back to socialize with their guests, and Zander studied the pictures. Am I jumping to conclusions about Harlan?

  He still couldn’t decide if he should talk to the sheriff.

  I’m getting worked up about a twenty-five-year-old photo that shows a few jerks.

  He took the photos back to the office, where Dory was looking frustrated.

  “Agent Zander? The girls are taking way too long. I’ve tried to call them, but neither are answering their phones.” Her soft face was lined with worry.

  Yesterday’s car accident flashed in his head. “Where did they go?”

  “Well . . . it’s a surprise.”

  “Dory, you can tell me. The surprise is for your sisters.” Tension ratcheted up his spine. “You’re clearly concerned. I can’t help unless I know where they are.”

  “They went to get Tara. Vina and Thea will be so excited!” She clasped her hands, glee on her face.

  Emily told them about Tara?

  “Madison and Emily are driving to Beaverton?”

  “Of course not, Tara is here.”

  Is Dory confused?

  “Tara is in town, Dory?”

  “Well, we assume she’s gone here.” Dory touched a photo of a young couple on a ridge above the ocean.

  Lincoln and Brenda Mills.

  “I saw Tara turn onto Seabound Road. There’s only one place to go on that road.” Dory triumphantly picked up the picture of the parents. “This park.”

  She saw Tara?

  “That’s where Madison and Emily are? This park? Right now?”

  She looked at him over the top of her glasses. “Didn’t I just say that?”

  “And they know Tara is there?” He struggled to believe that Tara had come to Bartonville.

  “It’s the only logical place.”

  “Tell me how to get there.”

  34

  Emily held her breath, her mind reeling as Madison peered over the steering wheel in the dark. Why had Tara come to town when she’d clearly stated she wanted nothing to do with the family? Had Dory mistaken someone else for Tara again?

  Emily’s phone vibrated with a text.

  Did you mean it when you said you wanted me back in your life no matter what I’d done?

  Emily’s lungs seized. She’d shoved her cell number into Tara’s mother-in-law’s hand, begging her to give it to Tara, as Wendy had showed her and Zander the door.

  Apparently Wendy had listened.

  Yes

  What if someone is dead because of me?

  It doesn’t matter

  Emily waited, holding her breath.

  Madison shot her several glances. “Who is it?”

  “It’s Tara.”

  The vehicle jerked as Madison gasped.

  “It’s not what you think,” Emily said quickly. “I started to tell you earlier that Zander found her. He took me to her house in Beaverton today, and I left her my phone number—I’ve had absolutely no contact with her since she left us.”

  “Emily . . .” Madison seemed speechless.

  “She has a daughter, Madison. Her name’s Bella, and she looks exactly like Tara.”

  “Oh my God.” Madison stomped on the brakes just in time to avoid driving through a stop sign. “Why didn’t you tell me?” Fury filled her sister’s voice.

  “It just happened. I’m still trying to process the visit.”

  Her phone vibrated again.

  What if that person who died because of me is Mom?

  Emily’s lungs fought for air.

  “What is it? What’d she say?” Madison tried to see the screen, and the car veered.

  “Watch the road!” Emily snapped.

  “You had no right to hide this from me!”

  “I hid nothing. I was going to tell you as soon as . . .” She honestly didn’t know if she would have told Madison. “Tara didn’t want anything to do with us today. She made Zander and me leave.” Her voice cracked, the pain still fresh. “She was a wreck—her mental health is poor, and I think she’s an alcoholic.” The last word was a whisper. “She denies she was there that night.”

  Emily stared at Tara’s last text about their mother. How do I reply?

  We love you

  Her screen blurred.

  Please come home

  “But you told me you saw Tara there the night Dad was kille
d.”

  “Maybe I was wrong.” Had she lived with a false memory all these years?

  “Why is she here? Why didn’t she come to the diner?” Madison asked, rejection ringing in her words.

  “I don’t know.” The fear she’d seen on Tara’s face was fresh in Emily’s mind.

  “Fucking ask!”

  Where are you?

  Emily waited, her fingers strangling her phone. Madison took the turn onto Seabound Road, and the road sloped upward. Seabound was a twisting, nausea-creating drive that climbed several hundred feet, winding through a crowded forest and ending at a small park with the overlook where her parents had posed.

  “I can’t see,” Madison muttered. Her headlights aimed away from the road as they came upon hairpin curves, making her steer through blind turns. “Shit!” She stopped, and Emily looked up from her phone.

  The park gate was closed, the road blocked. Two vehicles were parked on their side of the gate. One looked like the little Mercedes SUV that Emily had seen in Tara’s driveway. “She’s here.”

  Dory was right.

  “But why?” asked Madison. “Why would she come here?” She gulped, and her voice choked. “You said Tara was a mess. Did she come here to kill herself?”

  She’s going to jump from the overlook.

  “She just asked if I cared that it’s her fault that Mom is dead.” Emily opened her door, her heart in her throat. “We’ve got to stop her. Call 911.”

  Don’t do anything! Madison and I are coming to the overlook. Please wait!

  Why am I texting? Emily hit the CALL button, ignoring Madison as her sister spoke to a dispatcher.

  Tara didn’t answer her phone.

  “Let’s go!” She and Madison ducked between the metal bars of the gate and started to jog, her phone at her ear as she dialed Tara again.

  “The police are sending someone. I told them the gate is locked,” Madison panted as they ran.

  “The overlook is nearly a half mile from here,” Emily said. “And mostly uphill.” The last painkiller had exited her system, and her head throbbed, her legs already weak. Can I do this?

  “I don’t understand what’s going on,” Madison breathed.

  “That makes two of us,” Emily replied, sucking in air. “But I know she’s deathly scared of something. Something happened after—or during—Dad’s death that made her leave and stay away all this time.” She switched on her phone’s flashlight, and Madison did the same. There was nothing but trees along the road between the gate and the park, making her suspect that Tara wouldn’t do whatever she planned to do before she got to the overlook.