Rock Harbor Series - 01 - Without a Trace

by Colleen Coble

  “Jasper,” Lily offered.

  “He looks like a Jasper.” Bree scratched the dog’s ears.

  Palmer shrugged acquiescence. He and Lily managed to corral the girls and the dog and get them all into the van for the drive home.

  “Hey, why don’t you come to church with us tomorrow?” Lily asked.

  “The roof would fall in if I ever came to a church service.” Bree tried to deflect her refusal with a laugh, but a part of her wanted to accept.

  Aunt Mathilda turned her penetrating blue eyes on Bree. “That’s no laughing matter, Bree. The Hound of Heaven is searching for you. Can’t you hear his baying, Bree? Don’t ignore him, child.”

  “The Hound of Heaven? Sounds ominous.” Bree would indulge her. Besides, she was curious.

  Aunt Mathilda smiled. “Jesus, child. Jesus is looking for you, searching for you. He’ll follow you wherever you go. You can’t run from him or hide where he can’t find you. All this searching for your boy and your husband is just another way of running from his call and blocking out his voice. If you want to run, run to him, not away.”

  Bree raised her eyebrows. She didn’t like where this conversation was headed. Hound of Heaven, indeed. Her mind flitted to Naomi’s showing up just when she was about to fall to her death. She pushed the thought away. “I didn’t know you thought I was such a sinner, Aunt Mathilda.”

  “We’re all sinners, child. Every last one of us. I’ve seen you this past year, trying to atone for yourself with good deeds, turning all meek and mild, afraid to make a peep that Hilary doesn’t approve of. It won’t work, Bree. You’ve got courage, child. Use it to do yourself some eternal good. Take a good, hard look into your heart. Turn to God for forgiveness, then forgive yourself too.”

  Bree hadn’t come in here for a sermon. “See you later, Aunt Mathilda. Call me if you hear anything important.” Shivering in the wind, she tried to put the image that Aunt Mathilda’s words had conjured out of her mind. Visions of some slathering dog howling as he chased her was too scary to think about. Though everyone told her God was a God of love, all she’d seen was his hand of judgment. If he’d judged Rob’s sin, he’d taken innocent Davy as well. She wanted nothing to do with a God like that.

  Rock Harbor Savings and Loan was across the street and two doors down from the animal shelter. The bank windows glinted in the late October sunshine. Bree glanced at her watch. Eleven. The bank was open on Saturday mornings; maybe Steve would be working. She pushed open the ornate door and stepped onto the tile floor. Steve was walking toward his office. Bree hurried to catch up with him.

  “Steve, you got a minute?”

  “I guess.” He held the door open for her.

  She followed him into the office with Samson close on their heels. The dark mahogany desk gleamed, and the plush chairs matched the desk and the bookcases that lined one wall.

  Bree sat in one of the guest chairs. “How are you doing?” she asked.

  “Why do you care? You’re so suspicious of me you won’t even help me try to find Fay’s real killer.”

  “I . . . I want to help. But I don’t know exactly what I can do.”

  He leaned forward eagerly. “You’ll help? I just want you to take the dog and poke around, see if you turn up any clues, maybe trace where she was the last few days before she was killed.”

  Which was precisely what Bree had been doing. She suppressed a sigh. “All right. Now, how are you doing?”

  He looked away. “I’m getting by. The house is sure quiet. You know how Fay was, always yammering about something. You know, I’m the first to admit we had our troubles. I knew her old boyfriend had been calling her, but to find out the baby might . . .” His voice trailed off.

  “You don’t know that for sure,” Bree said. “Eric might have just wanted to hurt you.”

  “He did a good job of it. I guess I could have the baby’s DNA tested to see for sure, but I don’t think I want to know. Sometimes ignorance is easier to take.”

  And sometimes it plays you for a fool. Bree had been the ostrich type too often in her marriage. If she’d been more in tune with things, maybe Rob wouldn’t have strayed. She had chalked up his distraction to work. Now she knew better.

  Steve swiveled his chair around to the coffeepot on the credenza behind him. “You take your coffee with cream?”

  “And a little sugar,” she said. He stirred the coffee and handed it to her. Smiling her thanks, she wrapped her cold hands around the warm cup.

  Steve took a gulp of his black coffee. “I’m sure you didn’t come by just to see how I’m doing.”

  “I just thought we ought to team up . . . see what we can find out. I need to find out where that cabin she mentioned is too. I’m not having much luck finding it,” Bree explained.

  “You know how Fay was—she always had to be center stage. I wouldn’t put too much stock in what she said about the cabin and the airplane seat. It sounds pretty far-out.”

  Bree nodded. “That’s what I thought too, but since she died, I can’t seem to get it out of my head. I just want to find it and make sure.”

  “Sorry I can’t help you more there.” Steve picked up a pen and twirled it around in his fingers. “I just hope the sheriff is checking out Eric thoroughly. His temper has gotten him into trouble before.”

  “Could I poke around in her things at home, see if she wrote down anything, left any clues about this?”

  “I guess, but I don’t think you’ll find anything. Give me a few days though. The house is a mess, and I’ve got a maid coming to clean it up in a couple of days. Give me a call next week.”

  Bree didn’t doubt it was a mess. She remembered her own state of confusion and disarray, and the memory stirred her sympathy. “Another thing . . . Mason has a notebook that was in Fay’s backpack. You mind if I take a look and see if it mentions the cabin?”

  “Sure, that’s fine. He showed it to me. I don’t think there was much in there except for ramblings about different trails.”

  Which might be exactly what she needed.

  He eased back against his seat again. “Please don’t stop believing in me, Bree,” he said softly. “I loved Fay. Keep poking around, and you’ll discover I didn’t kill her.”

  She nodded, although she couldn’t shake her doubts. “I’ll call you next week.” Bree moved past him to leave, and he shut the door behind her. Glancing at her watch, she saw she only had fifteen minutes before she’d promised to be at Nicholls’s. Saturday wasn’t her usual day to work, but Anu had an appointment and needed her help.

  Nicholls’s Finnish Imports was bustling with shoppers sorting through the new treasures. Anu had just stocked the new merchandise she’d brought back from Finland two weeks ago. Bree paused to glance through a stack of wool sweaters and grabbed one for herself, a bright green one with navy trim. She stashed it behind the cash register then went to find her mother-in-law.

  “There you are,” Anu said. “I was beginning to wonder if you would make it.”

  “Looks like you need all the help you can get. This place is packed!” Indeed, even more shoppers had crammed into the small store until there was barely room to walk around.

  Anu smiled. “They could smell the pulla from down the street. I made a fresh batch, and every shopper must get one.” She untied her apron. “My thanks for taking over for me, kulta.”

  When Anu was gone, Bree wandered through the store, answering questions as best she could and chatting with the customers about everything from children’s homework to the latest news. Being part of the woof and weave of Rock Harbor never failed to bring a sense of grateful joy to her life. This was her home, and these folks were her family in all the ways that really mattered.

  Just after five, she escorted the last of the customers out and shut the door. Folding sweaters at the table by the front window, she glanced out into the street and saw Fay’s uncle Lawrence talking to Steve. Lawrence had his fists clenched and his face thrust into Steve’s. Both men were r
ed-faced, and their shouts carried indistinctly through the window. Bree opened the door and stepped out to the sidewalk.

  “It’s stupid to go through with that sale now!” Lawrence was yelling. “We can get twice that from my contact in New York.”

  “It’s my copper mine,” Steve said tightly. “You might have brow-beaten my wife, but don’t try it with me. I’m a man of my word. The matter is closed.”

  The man doubled up his fist as though he might punch Steve in the nose, but instead he wheeled and rushed away. Bree knew they had to have been talking about the old Copper Queen.

  Lawrence Kukkari had been a bit eccentric and difficult ever since he’d returned from Vietnam. If he could cause a problem, it seemed to make him happy. His letters to the editor of the newspaper were legendary in Rock Harbor. It seemed every time Bree saw him, he was angry. Could he have been angry enough to kill Fay over the mine, believing he could get Steve to see things his way about backing out on the sale to Palmer and taking the higher offer instead?

  His hands clenched at his sides, Steve watched Lawrence walk away, then his gaze settled on Bree. “There’s another suspect for you, Bree,” he called. “Why don’t you investigate why he practically forced Fay to agree to sell that useless copper mine? I’ve half a mind to cancel the sale altogether just to spite him. I’d do it too if I didn’t like Palmer so much.” He gave a disgusted snort and turned to walk away.

  Bree ran down the sidewalk. “Wait, Steve.” She ran to catch up with him. “Did Fay ever say anything about that other buyer of Lawrence’s being with the mob? I overheard an argument she had with him. She told her uncle she wanted nothing to do with his buyers, that they were mobsters.”

  Steve frowned. “We didn’t talk about the mine much. It belonged to her and Lawrence, and I tried not to get involved.”

  He turned and walked away. Bree stared after him thoughtfully. Maybe she’d just make a visit out to the mine next week and see if anything was stirring around the old place.

  12

  Rachel smoothed the three letters flat against the table. A future. She and Sam might have a future. The first two letters were the standard “Thank you for applying, but we’ve already filled the position” type, but the last one had brought a smile to her face. She’d read it over and over, and the words were still the same after two days.

  The director of a facility called Golden Years Nursing Home, a Mary Bristol, had invited her to come for a job interview. Rachel hadn’t thought that far ahead. What could she do with Sam? She would have to take the bus to Chicago, and her funds would barely cover the cost for herself. There was no way she could take Sam. Besides, she’d have to spend the night on a park bench, and she couldn’t endanger her son that way.

  She glanced at him, playing with his toys by the stove. Surely he could stay overnight by himself. Though she figured he couldn’t be more than four years old, he was smart and resourceful. And even more important, he was obedient. If she told him to stay inside and not to go out for any reason, he would do just that.

  Frowning, she decided to worry about it later. In the letter, the director had asked her to call and schedule an appointment, which meant she’d have to go back to town. She’d tried to call before she left town two days ago when she first received the letter, but the woman had been out of the office. According to her secretary, Rachel was supposed to call her today, Friday.

  She hurriedly dressed and put on her boots. “I have to go to town, Sam,” she told him. “I’ll get the wood chopped before I head out.”

  Sam stared at her for a moment then pushed his bowl of cereal away. “Can I go?” he asked.

  From the hopelessness in his voice, she knew he already expected the answer. She hesitated. Why not allow it this once? He could stay in the trees while she used the pay phone. No one would see him. And even if someone did, the color on his hair was fresh. No one would ever recognize him.

  The thought of the red-haired woman and her dog flashed through her mind. She lived in Rock Harbor. But Rachel couldn’t stand the helpless, lost look on Sam’s face any longer. It was unlikely that the woman would be anywhere near the pay phones. They wouldn’t be in town more than five minutes.

  “Okay,” she said finally.

  An expression of disbelief crossed Sam’s face, followed by incredulous joy. He bounded to his feet. “I’ll help you chop wood,” he said eagerly.

  “I’ll do it. You need to rest for the trip to town.”

  Rachel chopped wood all morning. After lunch she told Sam it was time to go. They would get to town about three. Taking his wool jacket from the hook by the door, she held it out for him to slip into. “We’d better get going.”

  For nearly two hours they walked through brambles and over hills, past streams and thick forest. At times Rachel carried Sam when his small legs got too tired.

  When they crossed the road, he cried out, “It’s Pooky!” He limped to the ditch where the koala bear lay partially covered by leaves. “Didn’t Timmy and Emily want him?” he asked. He cradled the stuffed bear in his arms.

  “I bet they dropped it by accident,” Rachel said.

  “I need to find them to give it back,” he said.

  “Come along,” she told him. No use in upsetting him by telling him he’d never see those kids again. They trudged toward town. The sounds of vehicles and people reached her ears as they paused on a hill overlooking Rock Harbor.

  Curls of smoke rose from the houses and cottages below them. Rachel scanned the streets close to the line of phone booths that was her destination. No sign of the red Jeep. Sam gripped her hand and started to walk forward with her, but she gently disentangled his small fingers.

  “You have to stay here,” she told him.

  “You said I could come!” He sat on the ground and began to sob, his wails growing louder and more pronounced.

  Rachel hardly knew what to do. Never had she heard him cry like that. His usual reaction of disappointment was a silent tear or two. But he must be very tired—they’d never traveled such a long distance before. She knelt beside him and pulled him onto her lap.

  “Hush, Sammy. I won’t be gone five minutes.”

  “But I wanted to see Emily and Timmy,” he sobbed. “They need Pooky.”

  “Timmy and Emily are home with their mommy and daddy,” she said. “We don’t even know where they live.”

  “But I want to see them!” He wailed louder, and Rachel looked around nervously. If someone heard his cries and came to investigate, they might be in big trouble.

  “Tell you what,” she said. “You stay here real quiet like a mouse, and when I get back, we’ll walk around the perimeter of town and see if we can find Timmy and Emily. If they’re outside by themselves, we’ll stop and say hello. Will that do?”

  Sam’s tears dried, and he nodded.

  Rachel stood with him in her arms then set him on the ground. “Now remember, be very quiet.”

  Sam nodded. “I ’member.”

  Clutching her letter with the woman’s phone number, Rachel took off at a dead run down the hill. Her legs wobbled, and her head spun with fatigue. Entering the phone booth, she pulled the bifold door shut behind her and opened the letter with shaking hands.

  Her palms slick with sweat, she dialed the phone and waited.

  A woman’s voice answered. “Mary Bristol.”

  “Hi, Ms. Bristol, this is Rachel Marks. I received your letter about setting up an interview?” Rachel hoped her voice didn’t betray her nervousness. Confidence, that’s what sold an employer.

  “Ah, yes, Rachel.”

  She heard the woman shuffle pages, then her voice came back over the line. “Can you come Monday at nine?”

  “Um, that’s a bit soon. Would next Wednesday work for you?”

  In a voice heavy with disappointment, Mary Bristol told her they were in desperate need of someone but finally agreed that Wednesday would be acceptable. As she hung up the phone, Rachel wondered what she could wear. Someho
w she had to overcome the bad impression she’d made by not agreeing to come when the woman wanted. It needed to be something professional and attractive, both traits that Rachel wondered if she even possessed anymore. Maybe if she stopped at Goodwill, she could find something she could afford.

  She yanked open the phone booth door and trudged up the hill to where she’d left Sam. She didn’t see him. “Sam,” she called softly.

  The only answer was the call of a gull from overhead. “Sam!” She raised her voice and turned to stare around her at the thick phalanx of forest crowding close.

  The trees seemed to press in on her. She couldn’t lose him, not now. He couldn’t have gone far. Rachel began to run from tree to tree. Perspiration poured down her face and clung to her back. “Sam!” Tree branches reached for her, and she fought her way through them.

  Think, Rachel. Where could he have gone? An instant later, she heard children laughing and whirled to see where the sound had come from. Leaning against a massive oak tree for support, she stared down the hill into a yard enclosed with a white picket fence. Three children were swinging on a swing set.

  Her frantic gaze raced from face to face. Emily, Timmy—and Sam. Relief flooded through her in a rush of sweetness that left her nearly sinking to her knees. No one had taken him. He was still hers and hers alone.

  The children turned at her approach. Emily’s eyes grew wide with fear, and Timmy’s feet thumped on the hard dirt, stopping the movement of his swing. He looked at his sister uncertainly.

  “Hi,” Emily said. Her voice trembled, but she raised her gaze to meet Rachel’s hard stare.

  Rachel was too distraught to care if she frightened the children. She opened the gate and rushed into the yard. Sam hadn’t seen her yet. His eyes were closed as he swung his legs and pumped the swing higher into the air.

  Watching him for a moment, Rachel felt a shaft of pain so strong she wondered if she might be having a heart attack. His carefree abandonment was a new sight to her. A child was supposed to be like this, wasn’t he? Had she deprived the child she loved from the happy existence he deserved?