by B. T. Lord
“What the heck is salvia timor?” Jace asked.
“It’s a hallucinogenic plant that induces visions. It originates in Mexico and has been used for centuries by the indigenous tribes as a healing tool.”
Cammie looked up at him. “So it’s like those plants some shamans use to connect to the spirit world?”
“Your friend Paul could best answer that. But yes, I’d said so. Never having heard of it, I did some research. Now this is what I found most interesting. The plant can cause depression, and in some instances, psychotic episodes. It’s highly recommended you have proper supervision from trained shamans to guide you through the experience because you only take this plant when you need to identify and heal a deep seated fear. In fact, the word ‘timor’ is Latin for fear.”
Cammie shuddered in horror. “Shit.”
“Indeed. Apparently there are three ways to ingest it. You can chew the leaves, though it takes longer for the effects to take place. You can smoke it. Or it can be crushed and used as a tea.”
Cammie caught her breath. “Tea?”
“Does that mean anything to you?”
“There was a mug with some loose tea in Marcy’s kitchen the night she went beserk. The next morning when Rick and I went back to her house, it was gone.”
“Was it an expensive mug? I mean, maybe someone stole it because of its value?” Jace asked.
“No. Just a cheap, made in China type of mug.” She looked at Doc. “Did your research tell you what this salvia stuff smells like?”
Instead of answering, Doc got up from his chair and went into his office. A moment later he reappeared with his laptop. He put it down on the coffee table and was soon typing away. A few moments later, he looked up.
“According to this, it has an unpleasant odor. Some people actually hold their nose while drinking it.”
“Would you consider the smell of old socks unpleasant?” she asked.
“I surmise by your remark that you smelled the contents of Marcy’s mug,” he replied.
“I did. So if that stuff in her tea was the salvia timor, where would she have gotten it from? It’s not like it’s readily available in grocery stores.”
“It’s a plant. It can be easily grown in a pot in someone’s home.” As Cammie considered this, Doc added, “However Marcy came to have it, the point is that salvia timor is legal in most states, including Maine. If she took too much and had visions that may have led to her death, there’s nothing you can do about it. It’s the equivalent of locking yourself away and drinking until you die. The liquor store can’t be prosecuted for selling you the booze.”
“Unless she was given the salvia without her knowledge.”
“There’s no way to prove that,” Doc pointed out.
“But it does explain her seeing aliens. It also explains that grotesque look of horror frozen on Todd’s face.”
He reached over and taking the autopsy report, shoved it back into the manila folder. “Since the sale of salvia timor is not illegal, Marcy’s death of a heart attack stands. As for Todd, we’ll see what toxicology finds.”
“If Todd does have that salvia in his system, you won’t think it’s weird that two people, who probably don’t even know each other, both succumbed to its effects?”
“You’ll have a hard time proving it. So at least for now, I say let it go.”
Jace glanced over at Cammie. He knew the set of her jaw. She didn’t like what Doc had to say, though she knew he was right. She had to let this go.
The question was, would she?
That night, Cammie tossed and turned in her bed from paradise. With Doc’s pronouncement that salvia timor was legal, her hands were tied. Yet every time she managed to fall asleep, she kept seeing Todd’s face contorted into a monstrous mask of pure, unfettered fear. She’d never seen anything like it, and she prayed she never would again.
Finally at four in the morning, she sat up and stared into the darkness around her. She was done sleeping. And, as much as she hated to admit it, she was done with this case.
As soon as she did one last thing.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
The next morning as soon as Cammie got to the office, she went over to Emmy’s desk. She was glad to see Emmy’s color was back, even though her eyes remained bloodshot. The young woman was munching on a chocolate filled croissant and was about to greet the sheriff when she saw the look of determination on Cammie’s face. She quickly swallowed the bite of croissant.
“Have you been able to track down anything on Torri and Clarisse?” Cammie asked.
Emmy’s heart began to pound. Her boss was using that voice she hardly ever used. She only used it when she was resolved to get something, whether it was information, a confession, or swift action on an order.
“Um … well…” Emmy stammered. Damn it, why wasn’t Rick here? Rick was always here. He could act as buffer between herself and her very determined employer. He knew just how to handle Cammie. He always had the worst timing. He couldn’t have waited five more minutes to check out the fender bender that was called in that morning? Jeez Louise – just five friggin’—
“Well? Did you find anything?” Cammie persisted.
Emmy thought she would faint. Instead, she gathered what little courage she had and expelled it in a slow breath.
“Actually, Sheriff, I did look. I’ve spent the last few days looking.”
“Then I’d like the report on my desk in fifteen minutes.” Cammie started to turn away.
“I can’t.” Cammie swung back around and raised an eyebrow at the young woman. Before she could respond, Emmy said quickly, “It’s not that I don’t want to, or haven’t had the time to do it. It’s just that…well…I…um…”
Cammie tamped down on her impatience. Emmy’s behavior was atypical. The young woman always accomplished whatever tasks were given to her in record time and in perfect condition. Cammie mentally counted to three and turned an expectant eye on Emmy.
“Yes?” she prompted.
Emmy had to come clean. She had no choice. “They don’t exist.”
Cammie frowned. “Come again.”
“I mean, they don’t exist on the internet. I’ve looked everywhere. I’ve even looked in places I don’t normally look, but there’s no record of Torri or Clarisse Jackson. I’ve spent the last week trying to track down anything, but…” Emmy shrugged her shoulders.
“I can’t believe there’s absolutely, positively nothing on them.”
“It can be done. It isn’t easy, and probably costs a lot of money to have someone make you disappear on the internet.”
A chill ran down Cammie’s back. Could that be what the $50,000 Todd had given Torri was all about? Had she used that money to make herself and her sister disappear? Yet why?
Another chilling thought occurred to Cammie as she considered Emmy’s words. Was that the reason Todd made sure to give them the money in a bank check? You needed a social security number to open a bank account. If they weren’t who they said they were…
Emmy held her breath. She’d never seen Cammie explode, though she’d heard rumors that when stoked, the sheriff did have a temper. But nothing came. Instead, she saw the wheels turning in Cammie’s brain.
“Did you at least find anything on Todd?”
“Oh yes, Todd was easy.” She reached over and pulled a manila folder from her inbox. “Everything is in there.”
Cammie took it. Then she gave a curt nod of her head.
“I’ll be out for a little while. Call me if anything comes up.”
And with that she was gone.
And with that Emmy took a long, deep breath.
Oh boy…
Getting into her Explorer, Cammie drove straight to her cabin. Just as Jace had said, he’d been keeping the driveway and parking area plowed. She felt a pang which she brusquely pushed aside. She parked in front of the steps and let herself inside. The cabin was freezing, though she wasn’t going to be there long enough to start a fire. Igno
ring the dust that was slowly taking over, she headed towards her bedroom closet. There, she rummaged around until she found an old battered suitcase shoved in the back behind boots, shoes and a large garbage bag filled with yarn that she hoped someday to make into something. A memory flashed through her mind of all the garbage bags from Marcy’s house and she involuntarily shuddered. She made a promise to herself that if she didn’t use any of this yarn by the end of summer, she’d give the bag to Emmy.
Feeling better about not becoming a hoarding bag lady like the late Mrs. Audet, she dragged the suitcase out and plunked it on the bed. Opening it, she rifled through papers that represented her previous life as a police officer in Seattle and a private investigator in Boston. She soon found what she was looking for and shoved it into her pocket. Putting the suitcase away, she locked up after herself. Sitting in the warmth of the Explorer, she flipped through the report Emmy had prepared on Todd.
He was forty-five years old when he died. Just as Mike Endicott had told her, he’d made a few million before the tech bubble burst. However, he’d been savvy enough to get out before that happened. He’d done consulting work here and there as a talented programmer before abruptly leaving Manchester for Twin Ponds four years before. Once here, he faded from sight. At least on the internet. Other than that, he’d led a quiet, unobtrusive life. No arrests. No warnings. Not even a parking or speeding ticket. To all extent and purposes, a model citizen.
Putting the folder back down on the front seat, she then turned her attention to the small battered address book she pulled from her parka pocket. Flipping through it was like flipping through the pages of her life. There were names here for people she hadn’t seen or talked to in years. She wondered how many were still alive, and what had happened to them. But now was not the time to open those doors. Instead, she found what she was looking for and dialed a number on her cell. A moment later, a gruff voice with a thick Boston accent answered.
“Yeah?”
“Sean, it’s Cammie Farnsworth.”
“Well, bust my balls. When you went off to Maine, I swore you were going to get yourself eaten by a bear. One of the few times I’m glad I was wrong.”
Sean Carney was an associate of Cammie’s from her days in Boston. A tough Irishman who seemed never to sleep, he had a finger on the pulse of everything that went on in the Bay State. If anyone could find out anything on Torri and Clarisse Jackson, it would be Sean. She quickly outlined the situation and explained what she needed.
“You’re going to owe me at least a couple of brewskees after this one, lady.”
“I’ll do one better, Sean. An all-expenses paid weekend at Mohegan Sun.”
Mohegan Sun, one of the largest casinos in the United States and located in Connecticut was owned and operated by the Mohegan Tribe. Wildly successful, it offered gambling, entertainment and spas. She knew how much Sean liked to play the dice. She heard him whistle on the other end of the phone.
“Shit, Cam, they must be paying you real good up in I’m-up-so-far-north-I-get-nosebleeds, Maine, or wherever the hell you are.”
Cammie laughed. “Don’t worry, Sean. Whatever you find me will be well worth it.”
“For a free weekend at Mohegan Sun, I’ll move heaven and earth to get you what you need.”
She hung up and sat looking out over the frozen pond. Now that the phone call to Sean was done, she’d make her own series of phone calls to the places where Todd had worked to see if any new information could be dug up. If that led to a dead-end, or if Sean found something to the contrary, she’d have no choice but to follow Doc’s advice and let this case go.
It was late when Cammie started the ride back to Doc’s log cabin. After arriving back at HQ, she’d called Todd’s old tech companies, but all the answers were the same. He’d been a quiet, conscientious worker who came in, did his job and left. He didn’t seem to have made any close friends, preferring to keep everyone at arm’s length. Just as she was hanging up on her last call, she and Rick were called out on a domestic assault involving two heavily intoxicated brothers taking swings at each other. Together, she and Rick were able to diffuse the situation and restore peace to the household and the neighborhood.
Driving through the dark streets, Cammie hoped that by the time she arrived, Doc would be holed up in his study, listening to his opera CDs. She was tired and she knew he’d see her exhaustion in her face. With no desire to get into an argument – the one that afternoon with the Foster brothers had been enough – she wondered if there was some way she could sneak into the house and avoid his wrath.
Mentally going over the floor plans to Doc’s house, Cammie suddenly realized how ridiculous she was being. She wasn’t in high school anymore, sneaking home after a make-out session with Eli Kelley. She was a grown woman, a sheriff, for Pete sakes. Despite her deal with Doc to take it easy, she had her duties to perform. It’s what she’d been elected to do. If those duties included staying past noontime to answer a call, she had to do it. No ifs, ands or buts. With Doc just as dedicated to his duties as she was, he’d just have to understand.
With that resolve in mind, she parked in the driveway, threw back her shoulders and walked in.
Hanging up her coat on the set of hooks near the front door, she headed towards the living room. She stopped in her tracks when she suddenly heard Doc’s voice reverberating through the house in unmistakable anger.
“You don’t know what you’re doing! Do you want to bring down his wrath? Have you honestly thought this through? Obviously you haven’t, because if you had, we wouldn’t be having this conversation.”
Doc’s back was to her; holding the cellphone in his hand, he was staring down at the roaring fire. Cammie’s first instinct was to get the hell out of there. If she could disappear before he turned around, he’d never know she’d heard anything.
She took a step towards the staircase. Then another. Just as she thought she was going to make her escape, he suddenly swung around. And saw her. And turned an even deeper shade of red.
Oh-oh.
“We will talk later on this,” he snapped into the phone. Cammie took one step to the right and froze as Doc pointed his finger at her. “You. Stay right there.”
“I wasn’t eavesdropping,” she replied as calmly as she could. “I just got here and--”
“What are you doing showing up so late? Do not tell me you’re still pursuing Paradis’ death.”
“Actually, no. I was called out on a domestic assault –“
“Domestic assault?” Doc replied, aghast. “Are you crazy?”
“No. I’m the sheriff and it’s my duty –“
“We made a deal you’d only work part time.”
“I can’t control when a call comes in. I was actually getting ready to leave the office when--”
Doc clicked his tongue in disgust. “Of course you were. And I’m the Fairy Godmother.”
“Well, you are –“
His withering stare shut her up. “I haven’t given you medical permission to return to work full time.”
“I wasn’t aware I needed it.”
“You most certainly do. You’re not ready to fully return to your duties. I can see by your face that you overdid it. Again. I can’t understand this obsession of yours to set back your recovery.”
Cammie was exhausted. And grouchy. What irritated her was that Doc was right. She had overdone it. But what else was she supposed to do? Law enforcement didn’t work on a perfect schedule. He knew that better than anyone.
She knew the phone call had incensed his temper, and he was taking it out on her. She also knew she’d be insane to goad him by responding. She therefore forced herself to take a deep, steadying breath. When she was back in control of her emotions, she met his eye.
“Doc, what is wrong with you? You haven’t been yourself for the last few weeks. If there is anything I can do to help--”
He stared hard at her for a long minute. Then waved his hand in a withering dismissal. “As if
I would accept help from the woman whose life is a classic train wreck due to her own stubbornness and stupidity.”
Cammie involuntarily gasped. Taking advantage of her shock, Doc swept past her. At the foot of the stairs, he turned, his eyes snapping in anger. “If you can’t follow a simple rule of not overtaxing yourself, then perhaps you should move back to your ramshackle cabin in the woods. At least then I won’t have to witness the deterioration of your health, or your life spiraling down into the toilet.”
He stomped over to his study. A moment later she heard the loud slam of the door, followed by the overly loud voice of Luciano Pavarotti singing Nessun Dorma ringing throughout the house.
They’d had their ups and downs in their friendship, but this was the first time he’d deliberately insulted her. She didn’t know what to think. All she could do was heave a long, heavy sigh and mutter, “Shit,” under her breath.
She slumped down on the couch and winced when pain erupted in her shoulder. No surprise there considering how tight her muscles were, thanks to the events of the day and Doc’s temper tantrum. As if to irritate her further, he turned up the volume even more on his stereo. If she didn’t get out of Doc’s house soon, her ears would bleed.
Throwing on her parka, she quickly left the house and climbed into the Explorer.
As soon as she was away from Doc’s house, her head began to throb to keep up with the throbbing in her shoulder. By the time she was a few miles away, it really started to pound.
If they hadn’t had their altercation, she could have gone back and asked him for some kind of painkiller. But Doc’s house was the last place she wanted to be. There was nothing at her cabin except some band aids and an old, dusty bottle of rubbing alcohol. She wondered if she could palm a painkiller from Jace, but she was reluctant to turn up at Hank’s. So far she hadn’t heard a peep from the townspeople regarding their meetings. Hank was a good guy, but he couldn’t keep his mouth shut if his life depended on it. If she suddenly turned up on his doorstep, the news would be all over the county by morning.
