by ML Gardner
Drifter
Book Four
by
M.L. Gardner
For Lisa
With Special Thanks to Monica Haynes
Copyright © 2012 M.L. Gardner
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means without written permission from the author.
The characters and events in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.
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Reading the series in order:
1929 Book One-Jonathan’s Cross
Elizabeth’s Heart Book Two
1930 Book-Three Aryl’s Divide
Drifter Book Four
M.L. Gardner Works in Progress include:
Purgatory Cove Book Five
1931 Book Six-Caleb’s Err
Simon’s Watch Book Seven
A 1929 Christmas Special (Release date November 10th, 2013)
Reclaiming Katie
Other books by M.L. Gardner:
Simply, Mine
Short Stories from 1929
May 2nd 1931
I smiled all the way back to Boston. People stared at me like I was cracked. I made a silent inventory of my mental state and decided that cracked might be an accurate description. And that was fine with me. My snap decision while standing in the yard of that farmhouse seemed more right with every passing minute. Sure, jobs were harder than hell to come by, but I didn’t care. No man in his right mind walked away from a good paying job at the police department.
Unless he’d cracked.
A plan fell together in my mind so fast it made me laugh.
I walked through a bad neighborhood, taking a shortcut to Cap’s house. Streetwalkers went scrambling. A dealer looked up with a look of hilarious fear and surprise as I walked by. I tilted my hat with a nod and wished him a good evening. None of this was mine to worry about anymore.
Captain didn’t have office hours. He was on duty all day, everyday. I knocked on the door. His wife opened it, looking irritated.
“He’s in bed,” she said curtly. Being the Captain’s wife had to be the biggest pain in the ass and I admired her tenacity to stay married to the man for thirty years.
“If you’ll go get him, I’ll wait,” I said.
She threw me a hateful look and a heavy sigh. She was used to it. But she didn’t like it.
Cap came around the corner yanking the ties of his bathrobe, looking as if he wished they were around my neck.
“What the hell is so urgent, Sloan?”
“I found a missing,” I said. I didn’t wait for, nor want, praise.
“Well good for you. It’s about damn time. But you couldn’t have waited until Monday morning to share the amazing news?”
“No, I couldn’t.” I started laughing deep, joyful belly laughs, excited and amazed at what I was about to do. They both stared at me. Cap put a hand in front of his wife, easing her back a few feet.
“I’m fine,” I said, between howls. God, I couldn’t remember ever being this happy.
“It’s the craziest story. One in a million, even. But I found him and brought him home and now…”
I looked at Cap and his wife, still staring at me with a cocked eyebrow and a slack jaw. “Now, I’m going on vacation.”
Cap folded his arms, clearly out of patience. I couldn’t have cared less.
“Sloan, this is another bit of news that could have waited until Monday. And didn’t you just get back from vacation?”
“I wasn’t on vacation. And I’m not going back to the office,” I said. I had stopped laughing but I was still grinning like a lark.
“What do you mean, Sloan?”
“Just what I said. I’m not coming back. Ever.” I dug my badge from my pocket and held it out.
“Now hold on a minute, Sloan, be serious! You can’t just up and quit like this.”
“Oh? Has there been a law passed or something?”
He looked at me, pleading.
“I can quit, I am quitting.” I grabbed his wrist and slapped the badge into his palm. “I just quit.”
“Look, I know this last year has been rough on you. I’m going to hold onto this and when you come to your senses, come into my office and we’ll act like this whole thing never happened.”
I smiled. “I’m not coming back.”
With that, I turned on my heel and walked out. I couldn’t wait to get home to Maggie.
***
I darted through back alleys and bad neighborhoods. I didn’t dawdle, not wanting to be one of those poor cops who get it his last day on the job. I had plans to enjoy my retirement, no matter how early or suddenly it came about.
***
When I got to my house it was the only one on the street with every light burning. I knew she was worried. I hated myself for not sending her a telegram from Rockport telling her I was back in the country and would be home soon.
I walked through the door and she looked up from her chair. Her mouth dropped in surprise. She tossed her knitting on the floor and nearly ran to me, hugging me tight. I’d never been gone so long and it felt good to be home.
I decided there was no point beating around the bush and just laid it all out.
“I quit my job, Maggie.”
She pulled back and stared at me as if I was a stranger. “You what?”
“I quit. I’m done. I’m never going back and I’ve never felt so good.”
I wasn’t sure what exactly was going through her mind, but I could read faint traces of relief mixed in with bewilderment. Or, maybe I just wanted to.
“What are you going to do?” she asked.
“No, Maggie, what are we going to do. And the answer to that is any damn thing we want! Aren’t you tired of this?” I looked around the house, small but respectable.
A month ago I had been so proud to have provided this for my wife. Now it felt like an anchor around my neck. “Let’s get out of here, Maggie. Let’s just go. We’ll sell the house and everything we own and take our savings and just…go.”
“Go where?”
“Anywhere there’s white sand and lots of sun. We can rent a little place and pick fruit from our bedroom window for breakfast. Thailand, the Philippines, Mexico, I don’t care. Pick a tropical place and we’ll go and live until the money runs out.”
I gathered her closer. “Who knows? Maybe if we shake off this dirty town and relax a bit, it’ll happen.”
Her face hardened again. “You know what the doctor said.”
“I know. I heard him. And I also know that miracles happen. I just got to witness one, Maggie, and I’m telling you, anything is possible.”
Without letting her go, I dug in my pocket and pulled out a pewter baby bootie charm. “I bought you this while I was out.” I held it up for her to see. She had trained her eyes against hope and didn’t show any emotion.
“What’s that for?”
“Luck. A little luck never hurt anyone.”
Five days earlier
Chapter One
Last Things First
He sat down and held out his hands. Sloan pulled a set of keys from his pocket and turned each lock on the handcuffs.
“Thank you,” Aryl said, rubbing his wrists.
“It was only a formality until you were on the boat and we set sail. France asked me to keep them on until then.”
“I understand.”
Aryl sat on the end of the bed holding one wrist regarding Sloan defensively.
He looked uptight; a ‘by the book’ kind of man in his starched suit and short oiled hair. He
set his briefcase down and looked around for somewhere to sit.
“Are you excited?” he asked. His expression said he wanted Aryl to be excited about going home.
Home. A place that seemed so foreign to him now.
“I don’t know yet,” he said, managing a weak smile. “I’m…nervous.”
“It’s quite an ordeal you’ve been through.”
“You don’t know the half of it,” Aryl said, avoiding Sloan’s eyes.
The ship wasn’t new. The S.S. Nomadic was twenty years old at least. Still, it was clean and so smooth you wouldn’t know you were underway unless you looked outside and saw the landscape slowly drift past. It wasn’t so big that Aryl felt lost, and not so small that he felt closed in.
With awkward silence filling the small quarters, Sloan stood and announced he would go to the dining salon.
“Can I get you anything, Mr. Sullivan?”
“No, I’m fine, thank you.”
“You look like you could use a drink. I know I could. Care to join me?”
“I’d like to stay here if it’s all the same.” The room was small, but comfortable and clean. Not first class, but nice enough. And it was painfully bright outside.
“I’ll bring you something, then.”
“Thank you, Sloan.” He folded his hands to hide the tremor, focusing his energy on his eyes to keep them from darting. The cravings hit again and were getting harder to hide.
“And something to eat?”
“Yes, I think I’m hungry.”
“You think?” Sloan grinned.
Aryl nodded sheepishly. “I am,” he said, reaching for his tattered green bag.
“Coming right up.” Sloan stopped at the door with his eyes on the bag. His hand had a fierce grip on the knob and his eyes were pleading. “Please don’t go anywhere.”
“Where would I go?”
Out the window the shoreline of France was becoming more distant. He watched it quietly; any traces of emotion slowly slid from his face leaving it blank and dull. He didn’t hear Sloan close the door behind him.
***
Rousing from his gaze with a jerk, he scanned the room to make sure he was alone. He sat on the edge of the bed and pulled his bag toward him with what seemed like the last of his energy. Dragging it onto his lap he sighed deeply.
Weaning down was proving more difficult than he thought. He’d done some crude math in his head, figuring that if he cut his dose in half each day, in amount and timing, he’d be free of it by the time he got home.
But it wasn’t exactly working out that way. He’d come down to a lower amount with more time between doses, but he seemed stuck. It wouldn’t let him wean down further. And he still felt that panicked urgency when he thought of running out.
He pulled the bag open and reassured himself that the bottles of opiate tonic he’d taken from Gina would surely last him the journey and then some. And the journey was all that mattered. When he got back he didn’t want to take it any more. He’d make himself stop. He dreaded how painful it would be but looked forward to being free. His body had begun to ache an hour ago as he and Sloan were boarding the ship bound for Boston. He’d held out as long as he could.
Popping the cork from a bottle he drank with his eyes closed. He returned the cork and laid the bottle in the bag with the others. It was a love hate relationship. He couldn’t stand it. And yet he couldn’t seem to get too far away from it. Just like Gina.
He looked out the window again and hoped he never had to come back to France. Or England. Running into her would be awkward after what he’d done.
***
Sloan knocked on the door and Aryl found him balancing plates of food in one hand and cupping two drinks in the palm of the other.
“Pot roast and potatoes,” Sloan said, holding it out. “And whiskey neat. It’s the best celebratory dinner I could afford.”
“You’re paying for this yourself?”
“You thought Boston P.D. was paying for the trip?” Sloan laughed. “No. This is all me. I’ve always been a saver. I’ve squirrelled away every extra cent for as long as I can remember. Never gambled in the stock market, either. But this is money I am happy to spend, my friend.” He handed Aryl the plate and raised his glass.
“To you, Aryl. Lost and then found.”
While they drank Aryl didn’t take his eyes off Sloan. He couldn’t decide if he trusted him as he set the glass down and put the plate aside at the end of the bed. “Why would you pay for this trip yourself?”
“Because…Boston doesn’t exactly know I’m coming to get you.”
“Why not? The officer in France told me—” Aryl stiffened, watching Sloan now with suspicion.
“I know. I know what he told you and this isn’t exactly how things are done but to be honest, until the moment I saw you, I thought you might be someone else. In truth I didn’t really know who I was coming for.”
“Are you disappointed?”
“It doesn’t matter. All that matters is that I am finally bringing someone home. I needed to be the one to do it. Because if I had told anyone, well, they’d have sent a full escort over here for you and I’d have gotten a plant and a card and a have a nice life.”
“I don’t understand.”
“There’s plenty of time to explain.”
“But no one knows, right? In Rockport, I mean. No one knows I’m coming?”
“No. Like I said, I thought you might be someone else. So I haven’t said a word to anyone.”
Aryl let his shoulders relax and carried the plate to the small table by the window. Slumping in a chair he stabbed at his potatoes. Sloan sat across from him, centered a glass ashtray and lit a cigarette.
“But I have to ask, why wouldn’t you want everyone to know you’re coming home? It’s been so long. Nearly a year.”
“It’s complicated.” He held his hand out. Sloan slid his cigarette case across the table.
“Well, as I said, we have a long sailing ahead of us. Plenty of time to talk.”
Aryl nodded slowly, avoiding Sloan’s eyes. “Before I tell you everything, I have a few questions.”
“Sure.” Sloan sat back and crossed his legs.
“Do you know anything about my wife? About Claire?”
“I went to Rockport once. I saw her but I never spoke to her.”
Aryl hesitated to ask the obvious.
“She looked fine,” Sloan offered.
“Tell me.”
“What do you want to know?”
“Everything. What was she doing? What did she look like?” He dropped his voice and eyes, his fork still busy pushing his food around. He hadn’t yet taken a bite.
Chapter Two
An Obvious Outsider
I found the Sheriff’s office easy enough. Nice looking little brick building with a large front window. The title ‘Sheriff’ was etched on the frosted glass in an old west style. Walking in, I removed my hat. A cute little gal at the front greeted me. She looked young and fresh. Not like poor Helen back at home, young and ragged. I asked to speak with the Sheriff and she pointed to his office, telling me to help myself.
I rapped twice and then pushed the door open. He sat in his chair with his feet on his desk, snoozing over a book.
Wild Bill of the West, it read. The first knock didn’t wake him so I did again before crossing the threshold. He snorted, spun his head around and looked embarrassed.
“Oh, hey there, what can I do for you?”
He straightened his shirt and sat back against the chair. I glanced at the nameplate on his desk.
“Sheriff?”
“That’s me.” He stood and shook my hand. He was tall and wiry and I could tell by his meticulously pressed shirt he had a wife at home, even before I saw the ring on his finger. “How can I help you?”
“I’m Detective Sloan from Boston.” I flipped out my badge and his eyebrows went up.
“Well, you’re a ways from home, now aren’t you?”
“Ye
s, well, I’m supposed to be on vacation.”
“Keeping the law isn’t something that lets you do that, now is it?” He smiled with a knowing gleam in his eye. “What brings you to Rockport?”
“I have a few questions for you, if you don’t mind.”
He relaxed back into his chair. “Shoot.”
Looking over his shoulder I could see a board with random things pinned to it.
“Interesting collection.”
“I’ve got a thing for Wild Bill.” He folded the corner on the page of the book he was reading and put it back on the shelf with others of the same era and character.
“I meant the board behind your head.”
“Oh, that. That’s my board of questions.”
“Board of questions?”
“Yeah, things that happened around Rockport that I don’t have fully figured out yet. Most of them are petty. We don’t have a lot happen here.”
I looked again at the six or seven things pinned to the board. If only I had that few loose ends, I thought with envy.
“They all have stories, don’t they?”
“They sure do. But the ramblings of a small town Sheriff could hardly be interesting when you come from a city like Boston. Boy, that town will keep a law man up at night.”
“You have no idea,” I said with a gruff laugh.
“I’ve an inkling, perhaps.”
Looking him over closely, I had a feeling he might. His town might be small but his troubles were deep.
“Can I get you some coffee?”
“That would be great, thank you.”
He left me to study his humble office and returned shortly with steaming mugs. It tasted great.
“Did you make this? Or your secretary.”
“Alice makes all the coffee. Now, how can I help you?”
“Well, I’m looking for someone. I’m hoping you can help provide me with some leads.”
“I’ll do my best.” He leaned forward, interested.
