by A M Ialacci
“There’s a lot in there.” Cruz chuckled. “Let me get it into your truck for you.”
“I can get it,” Allie insisted.
“I know you can, but I can help, too. Let me,” he said. His hand started to reach toward her face, but he stopped himself, bent, and picked up the box. “After you, please.”
Thoroughly confused by what had almost happened, Allie spun on her heel, a blush rising up her neck to her entire face, it felt like. She opened the passenger door without looking at Cruz, and he put the box on the floor of the truck.
When he stood, he turned to her. “I’m sorry about that back there. I know you’re in a relationship. I… don’t have any explanation for myself.”
“It’s okay,” she said. “Attraction isn’t evil. It’s human.” Am I rationalizing my own feelings? “We just have to draw the line on acting on it.”
“Yes. Exactly. One hundred percent,” he said, backing up and pointing at her. “Okay, well, thanks for filling me in, and get those files back to me sometime tomorrow. Preferably early.”
“Got it,” she said, smiling. She threw him a salute, climbed into the truck, and pulled out.
Chapter Thirty-One
Allie lugged the heavy box to the porch and then set it down for a few moments to give her arms a break. She was strong, but these files required super strength.
Peg popped out of her screen door and waved. “Hey, honey! Do you need help?”
Allie chuckled. “Oh, no. Just have to get this box inside.”
“Well, make the big strong boy do it.” Peg gestured to Ryan, bounding up the steps behind Allie, with Frankie walking close behind.
“Good point!” Allie said. “Ryan, can you carry this inside?”
Ryan reached down and seemed to have an easier time of it than Allie had. She held the door open for him and Frankie and turned to Peg. “Want to come over for an update on the case?”
Peg smiled. “I’ll just grab my knitting. Be over in a jif.”
Ryan put the box under the kitchen table and bopped into his room to get his DS. Frankie found a spot on the couch and pulled out her drawing supplies. Allie put her things in her room and looked around. It still felt a bit weird to call the room that had been her parents’ hers, but it was full of good memories. By the time she came back to the living room, Peg had come in, her knitting bag in tow.
As she settled into an armchair, Peg asked, “So, how’s it going?”
“We’re finally getting some traction, but none of it is definitive, of course,” Allie said. “It seems Harriet Brennan had a few secrets.”
“She did, huh?”
“Had two recent affairs, one with a woman, and one with an as-of-yet unknown man that resulted in a pregnancy.”
“She was pregnant!” Peg’s mouth dropped open.
“And we just found out her wife was at the Cape even though she had told us twice before that she was at home watching Netflix.”
“Why’d she lie?”
“I’m not really sure,” Allie said. “They’d had a loud fight recently, and maybe she was concerned she would be the first suspect.”
“And rightly so. They say it’s usually the spouse, right?”
“Yeah, but then why make her go all the way to the top of the lighthouse and kill her? And then have little to no plan for disposing of the body?”
“No, that doesn’t make much sense, does it?” Peg said.
“There’s another ranger that supposedly got a less-than-stellar job performance review from Harriet, and those reviews are now conveniently missing. He may have been working with another ranger on a plan to make them disappear, but we don’t know if that included murder, or not,” Allie said.
“Hm,” Peg said. “Could he be the father?”
“It’s possible. Yet another ranger thinks so. Also said he has an anger management problem.”
“Wow. He sounds like a good bet.”
“On paper, he kind of is. I’m not sold on him yet, though.”
“What’s with the box?” Peg asked.
“Oh, uh, Nick Cruz is letting me borrow it.”
“That hunky FBI Agent?” Peg raised an eyebrow.
“Yeah,” Allie said, blushing.
“What are you blushing for, Allie Fox?”
“I, uh, well…” Allie paused. “I think he may have a crush on me. And I saw him in only a bath towel today, but—”
“What?”
“That came out wrong,” Allie said. “He asked me to lunch—”
“Allie, are you seeing him? Behind Mike’s back?”
“Peg! No! My God. Do you think I would do that?” Allie squeaked. Ryan wandered out from his room with his DS, curious to see what was going on. He stood in the kitchen and opened the snack cupboard, but didn’t move.
“He asked me to lunch and well, I’ll tell you what that was about later.” She raised her eyebrows and looked at Ryan. “And then this afternoon I had to update him about developments in the case. We couldn’t reach him on his phone so I stopped by his motel room, and he answered the door in only his towel.”
“Oh, my,” Peg said, putting a hand to her chest. “I bet he has a nice body,” she whispered.
“Peg!” Allie almost choked on the laugh that forced its way out of her mouth. They both laughed and Allie whispered, “Yes, he does, by the way.”
“And?”
“And he… kind of told me he was attracted to me—”
“Oh, my,” Peg said again.
“But that he knew I was in a relationship. And he gave me the case files to look at since Kat Matthews wouldn’t let me have access.”
“How noble of him,” Peg said. “You sure it’s not just a ploy to get into your pants?”
Allie snorted. “I think Mike might have something to say about that if it were true.”
“Speaking of Mike, how’s he doing in Florida?”
“Well, we had a little falling out when I told him I had gone to lunch with Cruz.”
“Didn’t let you explain, did he?” Peg asked. “Men.”
Allie shook her head. “So stubborn. I’ll give him a call later.”
“If it were me, I’d make him wait until tomorrow.” Peg chuckled.
“But I’m going to dig into these files, if that’s okay with you. You’re welcome to stay and hang out for as long as you’d like.”
“You know, I think I will for a bit. I love spending time with you guys,” Peg said. “Ryan, honey, get a snack for you and your friend, and then come help your sister move this box.”
Allie shot her a smile, and after giving a bowl of popcorn to Frankie, Ryan came to help his sister pull the heavy box into the living room. She took the top off the file box and pulled a few out and began sorting them into piles. Ryan reached for a stack of journals tucked in the back. “Oh, those are Harriet’s,” she said. “I’m surprised they aren’t in evidence.”
She pulled out several reports and began to flip through the pages. Ryan looked at the journals and back at her. Allie didn’t think there was any harm. Charlie had gone through them already and determined they were pretty much just weather reports. “Just be careful with those, bud,” she said.
“Yep,” he said.
She smiled. He still didn’t speak much, but his language was coming back. There were times when he would bust out an entire sentence, and she knew he was healing from the grief of their parents’ deaths and making progress.
Ryan’s brows drew together, and he looked around for a minute. Then he stood, took the journal he had over to the table, and rooted around in the kitchen for a piece of paper and a pencil. He sat at the table for a few minutes and then got back up surveying the stacks of files in front of Allie. On top of one stack were the records the FBI had gotten from Harriet’s cell phone carrier. Ryan snatched those up and returned to the table.
“Hey, Ryan,” Allie said, scrambling to her feet. What the heck is he doing? Is he drawing and using them for paper?
She lo
oked over his shoulder, ready to grab them back, but she saw that he was using the scrap piece of paper to make notes, comparing the phone records to the journal. “What have you got there, bud?” she asked softly.
He looked at her, his eyebrows still drawn together. She could almost see the wheels turning in his mind. He was working out a puzzle, what he did best. Better leave him to it, she thought.
“He’s figured something out?” Peg asked as Allie returned to her spot on the floor.
“Looks like he’s got ahold of something,” Allie said. “We’ll see what shakes out.”
Chapter Thirty-Two
Frankie brought her drawing pad and colored pencil pouch over to the other end of the couch and wrapped up in a throw blanket, occasionally looking over Allie’s shoulder. “What are you looking at, Miss Allie?” she asked.
“These are pictures that the FBI shared with me. We’re trying to solve a crime,” Allie said carefully. She didn’t want this girl to go home and tell her parents she’d been looking at crime scene photos.
“I know that,” Frankie said. “What is that in the pictures?”
“These?” Allie said, turning partially to look at Frankie. “These are hairs. They’ve been magnified.”
“Like with a microscope?” Frankie asked.
“Exactly like that,” Allie said.
“We used those in science,” Frankie said. “Lots of little critters all around us.”
“Very true,” Allie said.
“Is that what my hair looks like real close up?” Frankie asked.
“Yes, it is,” Allie said, “Except yours would be darker because you have darker hair.”
“I see,” she said. “Those two belonged to people with lighter hair.”
“Yes,” Allie said. “Except these two belonged to the same person.”
“No, they didn’t,” Frankie said.
“Yes, we’re pretty sure they did,” Allie insisted.
“Can I see them?” Frankie asked, holding out her hand.
“Sure,” Allie said. “Just be careful.”
Frankie nodded then took the photos over to where Ryan was working to get better light under the lamp. “Nope. Those are two different colors, Miss Allie. I scored 100 percent on the Farnsworth Munsell 100 Hue Test. Only sixteen percent of the population scores in that range for color competence. Trust me. Those are two different colors of hair. One is more of a strawberry-blonde, and the other lacks the reddish hue.”
“Are you sure, Frankie?”
Frankie nodded and smiled. “Quite sure, Miss Allie.” She handed back the photos.
Allie studied them again. The strawberry-blonde hair would have belonged to Harriet, but the other… The notes said it was collected from under the body. It could have come from the killer.
Allie stood and stretched. Her mind was buzzing with the new information and she had to pace a bit to calm it. She looked over Ryan’s shoulder as he worked at the table. “What are you working on there, bud?”
“I’m not finished,” he said, putting his hand over his paper. Allie smiled. He did the same thing with his artwork.
Peg said, “These kiddos are amazing, aren’t they?” She was working on a hat but put it in her lap for a moment and looked at Allie.
“They really are,” Allie said.
“Done!” Ryan announced. Allie turned and looked over his shoulder again. On his scrap pieces of paper, he had listed dates and temperatures, matching them up with dates and phone calls from the cell phone carrier’s records. He pointed to a journal from July where Harriet had written that it was fifty-two degrees. “Too cold for summer,” he said.
“You’re right, Ryan! We missed that completely,” Allie said, picking up the journal and flipping through it. As she did, she looked again at his notes.
“This temperature is this phone number. But this temperature is this phone number.” He pointed to a second listing on the records.
Allie flipped to the corresponding page in the journal. Thirty-four degrees in late July? I don’t think so! “So the journals are coded,” she said.
Ryan smiled. “Yep!”
“How did you figure that out?” she asked.
“Wrong temperatures. It was eighty-three degrees on July ninth. Beach trip with the Autism Center!”
“Wow, you remember that, huh?” Allie was in awe of his memory but also at the length of his sentence.
“Yes,” Ryan said. “Thought maybe phone calls would match. Lucky.” He beamed.
“Very lucky,” Allie said, patting him on the back. “I’m so proud of you, Ryan. And you, Frankie. Thank you both so much for your help! How about a pizza in return for all your hard work?”
Ryan and Frankie both started hopping up and down, shouting, “Pizza!” and giggling. Their excitement was infectious and within seconds, Peg and Allie were laughing along with them.
After they had eaten and Peg had returned to her trailer, Allie and Ryan drove Frankie home. When they arrived at her house, Ryan walked her up to the door and gave her a long hug before she went in.
When he returned to the truck, Allie smiled at him and said, “You really like Frankie, don’t you?”
He smiled and faced forward, rocking a little. “She says I give good hugs.”
“You do give good hugs,” Allie said, pulling away from the curb.
“Sometimes we fight,” he said. “She gets bossy. Better at art than me. Tries to tell me what to do when I draw. I just tell her, ‘You hurt my feelings!’ We hug. All better.”
“I love you so much, bud,” Allie said, patting his leg and wiping a tear from her eye.
“Love you too, Allie,” he said and patted her thigh in return. He found her hand with his and they held hands for a few minutes. “Mike coming back?”
Allie sighed. “Next week. I think he and I need to hug and make everything better.”
Ryan patted her thigh again and smiled. “You will.”
They pulled in to the trailer, and Allie handed Ryan the keys. “Let yourself in, okay? I’m going to call Mike.”
Ryan smiled, took the keys, and headed inside. Allie sat in the darkened pickup, watching the sky turn pink as she dialed Mike. It rang eight times and eventually his voicemail picked up.
“It’s Mike. Leave a message.”
Allie hesitated and then pressed “end call.” She’d much prefer to tell him in person.
Chapter Thirty-Three
“Allie, where is my orange key?” Ryan padded into the living room and plopped on the couch next to her.
“Oh, uh, I needed to borrow it,” she said.
“Can I have it back, please?”
“Such nice manners, Ryan. But I need to hang on to it for a while, if that’s okay.”
Ryan studied her. “Okay,” he said finally. “Promise?”
Allie nodded. “Where did you find that key, Ryan?”
His whole body tensed and he looked away.
“You’re not in trouble, bud. I’m just looking for some more information about it,” she said.
He studied her again. “In there.” He pointed toward her bedroom.
“Before I moved in there?”
He nodded.
“So you’ve had it for a while.”
He nodded again. “Had Dad’s name,” he whispered.
“I know.” She patted his knee. “I miss him, too. And Mom.”
Ryan scooted closer and wrapped his arms around Allie, and she returned the warm hug. She realized Ryan was maturing in so many ways, and being able to manage his sadness and communicate that with a hug rather than a meltdown was proof.
“I’m so proud of you, bud,” she said.
He released her and stood, holding his hand out to her. “Show you.”
“Okay,” she said, taking his hand and letting him lead her into her room. He opened the closet door, spread apart her clothes on the rack, revealing what looked like a fuse box. “What’s this?”
“In there,” Ryan said.
“But, Ryan. This is just a fuse box,” she said.
He shook his head. “Fuse box by the back door.”
Allie looked up and thought about it. He was right. She hooked her finger into the loop and lifted, opening the small metal door. Inside was a black case with a latch. She pulled it out and estimated its weight at several pounds. Allie looked at Ryan who smiled instead of saying “I told you so,” and they went back to the couch, black case in hand.
Putting the case on the coffee table carefully, she opened the latch and pulled out several stacks of files. Allie glanced at Ryan again, wondering if she should open the files in front of him. She took a deep breath and remembered everything Ryan had already seen in the past few days, and pulled the first file toward her.
It was a profile on a member of the Balkan crime syndicate and seemed to be generated by the FBI, although Allie recognized notes in Jack Fox’s cramped hand in the margins. She flipped to the back, and there were detailed notes that her dad had written about his encounters and observations involving this character. Apparently, the FBI had been correct when they suspected criminal activity at the Port of Morehead City.
The other files in the stack appeared to be more of the same, along with one file that gave background on the syndicate as a whole, and intel on their current endeavors on the Eastern seaboard.
As she moved files around, a single sheet of folded stationery fluttered to the ground. Ryan picked it up and opened it. “Dad!” he exclaimed, jumping up from the couch. He paced and flapped his hands in excitement.
“What did you find there, Ryan?” Allie asked, standing.
“Letter from Dad.” Ryan beamed, holding out the paper to her.
She took the thin sheet of paper and looked at it. The only word she recognized was Ryan.
“Ryan, this is addressed to you, but I can’t read any more of it. Can you?” she asked.
He beamed and nodded.
“How?” she asked.
He ducked his head, blushed, and looked at her through his eyelashes.
“Is it a secret?” she asked.
He nodded again.
