A Haunting Dream

by Joyce Lavene

  But of course, it was too late. I’d already played my trump card—the police. People involved in illegal activities didn’t like to hear that word.

  I ended up a few minutes later with a thorough view of the basement I’d wanted to see. I was sharing it with some marijuana plants.

  The woman had tied me to a chair, with apologies. It seemed she was from Duck and her family owned the house. Her boyfriend was involved in some questionable activities. She wasn’t happy about it, but she loved him and wanted to be supportive. He’d promised a trip to Antigua. I told her I understood.

  After she’d left me, I heard the door to the upstairs slam shut and a lock turn in place. Thankfully, the rope she’d tied me with was old and came apart easily. I got up from the chair and looked around—might as well examine the basement since I was there.

  But this basement was very clean, empty, and well lit with plenty of grow lights for the plants. This wasn’t where Betsy was being held. It was all for nothing.

  I was beginning to question the wisdom of my plan when my cell phone rang in my pocket. Fortunately, the couple weren’t experienced at taking prisoners. They’d kept my clipboard and flyers but hadn’t check to see if I had a phone.

  “Hello?”

  “Dae?” It was Kevin. “I want to meet you somewhere so we can talk. Are you free?”

  The question made me want to giggle. Yes, I’m free—since I managed to get out of the ropes. “I’m a little busy right now. Maybe later.”

  “You’re avoiding me.”

  “Not really.” I started looking around for a door out of the basement that wouldn’t lead me past my captors. I really didn’t want to tell the chief about this. “I’ve just been very busy, Kevin. I promise I’ll find some time.” As soon as I escape.

  “You sound strange. Where are you?”

  “Out working for the town.” It wasn’t really a lie. “If this is about what happened with the FBI, don’t worry about it. You and Ann are experts at this. You’ll find Betsy.”

  “I’d like you to be part of the team. Ann is having a hard time picking up on the girl. We don’t have time to waste. You’ve had contact with her. I think Agent Kowalski was wrong to dismiss you. Let’s talk.”

  The basement had only the one door, the one the woman had locked. There was a window about six feet from the floor, but I wasn’t sure I could fit through it, even if I could manage to reach it. I looked around for a stepladder or boxes to stand on.

  “It’s better this way,” I told him. “I have a few ideas but nothing substantial either. I think I’d only hold you back.”

  “A few ideas?” He sounded suspicious. “Like the one you had about searching Sparks’s house? Exactly where are you right now, Dae?”

  “I’m in the basement of one of the newer houses on the Atlantic side. Everything is going to be fine, Kevin. Don’t worry. I can get out of this without your help.” I saw another call was coming through. It was Chris, thank goodness. I could tell him exactly where I was. “I’ll talk to you later.”

  “Wait, Dae! Don’t hang up!” Kevin sounded a little frantic. I hoped I hadn’t said too much.

  I answered the other line while I found a wooden crate that I thought might hold my weight. “Chris! I think I might need some help. Where are you?”

  He was across town on the Currituck side. “What kind of help? Should I call the police?”

  “No! Don’t do that. The chief won’t like it.” I explained the situation to him. “I think I can get out of this window. Once I’m outside, I’ll call Tim and let him know what’s going on here. That way, it doesn’t require any further explanation.”

  “Mayor, I think we should call right now. You’re in danger. We can explain everything else later. You said we shouldn’t take chances.”

  I didn’t tell him that I hadn’t known I was taking chances until I’d seen the gun. By then, it was a little too late. “Don’t worry. I’ll call you back in five minutes.

  “Mayor! Dae!”

  I had to hang up. It wasn’t going to be easy pushing myself up to the window and getting through it. I needed both hands. I didn’t want to attract any attention from the people upstairs. I picked up the crate, ready for a storm of facts from it when I touched it—where it was made and how it got here.

  Instead, it floored me with a vision.

  The crate had held illegal whiskey at one point. That’s how it got into Duck. I heard laughter and the faintest sound of someone crying. At least ten men were standing around outside a building, with several of them keeping a lookout for someone else.

  The man they were expecting drove up in a burgundy Lincoln, exactly like the one in my earlier vision. He got out of the car, hailed by his men. He was accompanied by a woman, beautiful and elegant, who followed him into the clearing near the beach.

  “You have some blood on you,” she said, taking a tissue out and dabbing it on his tie. “Can’t you do anything without getting it all over?”

  He looked down at her and I saw his face—craggy lines, square jaw, icy blue eyes. “Get back in the car. I’ll clean up later. We’ve got work to do.”

  She started to protest, but something in his face made her back down. She turned to go back to the car, looked right at me and said, “You better be careful. He doesn’t fool around when it comes to business.”

  I came back to myself at that point. I was freezing, shaking with cold and shock. I got up off the floor, pulled myself together and carefully aligned the crate again so I could get out of the window.

  I heard a disturbance upstairs and worked a little faster. Who knew what was going on up there? They could come down for the plants, and me, anytime. They didn’t seem like killers, but what were they going to do with me? I had seen their faces and their large, pot-growing organization.

  I could just reach the window standing on the crate, but I couldn’t get it open. It was probably painted or nailed shut. My only chance was to break it and hope my captors didn’t hear.

  I got down to look for something to do the job. The door to the upstairs opened, and I hid behind the furnace. A large mallet lay on the floor beside me. Even though the head was covered in rubber, it would do for a weapon, if I needed one. I hoped I didn’t.

  Someone came down the stairs. I couldn’t see who it was without giving away my hiding place. Whoever it was looked around, moved a few things, then yelled upstairs, “She’s not down here. The basement is full of plants but no sign of Dae.”

  It was Kevin. I came out from behind the furnace, clutching my mallet. “You must’ve known I was about to break a window. It’s amazing how fast the grapevine works.”

  “Are you okay?” He frowned. “Are you looking for drug dealers now?”

  “Very funny. How did you know where I was?”

  “I told him.” Chris came down the stairs. “I’m sorry, but I was really scared, and you asked me not to call the police.” He looked around the basement greenhouse and whistled. “But I think this changes everything.”

  I put the mallet on the floor. I felt ridiculous holding it now that they were there. “Not really. We’ll have to tell the chief about this, but we can go on with our other project.”

  Chris shook his head. “Sorry, Mayor. I already spilled the beans on that. I know you want to do this on your own, but maybe it would be better if you had help. The real kind—not me, Roy, Shelton and Harry. We don’t have a gun between us, and I think you might need one for this work.”

  His eyes reflected sympathy for my situation with Kevin and Ann, but I could tell he was ready to pass this off to more experienced hands. “The police are upstairs now. They have the people who are staying here in custody. The man pulled a gun on him. Bad move.”

  “I probably shouldn’t have involved you anyway. I’m sorry. I won’t let you take any heat over this. If the chief asks, I told you that you had to help me.”

  The door going upstairs squeaked open again. “What’s everybody doing down here in the basemen
t?” Chief Michaels demanded as he came down the stairs. “What’s going on? And why did I find out about it from one of the public works guys?”

  Chapter 14

  No one said anything for a minute or two. We all stood around, probably looking guilty. I didn’t want Chris to get in trouble, so I spoke up. “I was down here checking out the basement and I found these pot plants.”

  The chief eyed the plants with less excitement than I’d hoped. “There’s not that much down here. Why were all of you out checking basements anyway? Roy told me Martha Segall ran him off with a broom. He’s lucky she didn’t tear a strip off his back.”

  I started to explain, but Kevin stepped in. “Dae is working with Ann and me looking for Betsy Sparks. She had an idea about the girl being kept in a basement. That seemed to be important town business, so she involved Chris and the public works guys.”

  While I appreciated his backup, I’d let him speak up for me at Chuck’s house. I wasn’t comfortable allowing him to fight my battle this time. “Thanks, Kevin, but I can answer this myself.”

  I raised my chin and looked into the chief’s stern eyes. “I think it’s possible Betsy is being held someplace like a basement or an old root cellar. I didn’t want to waste your time until I could check things out. I asked Chris and the others for their help.”

  The chief nodded and made a snorting sound. “I’m not the one to judge you on this, Mayor. I’m sure the council will want some explanation. That’s not my problem. But I want you to stay out of this from here on in. You could’ve been seriously hurt today, or we could be looking for another kidnap victim. I know Horace wouldn’t approve of you being out here checking basements and whatnot. I need your word that you won’t go off on your own investigation again.”

  In situations like this, Chief Michaels reminded me a lot of Gramps. Years ago, when I was a somewhat wild seventeen-year-old and the chief was still just a sheriff’s deputy, he had pulled me over for speeding. He’d given me a similar speech and called Gramps, who was sheriff at the time. I never again drove a car too fast down Duck Road.

  “You have my word, Chief. I won’t investigate on my own. I’m just concerned that we’re going to find this little girl too late.”

  He kind of patted me on the back, then cleared his throat. “We’re all worried about that. And truth be told, it would be a darn good idea for you to help Brickman here with his investigation. I’m sure he could use all the help he could get. And that way, he doesn’t have to keep chasing after you.”

  Kevin nodded. “You’re right, Chief. I’ve asked Dae to help us. Ann is good at what she does, but she doesn’t know the island like Dae. Maybe you can help convince her.”

  The chief raised his eyebrows. “I’ll leave that to you, son. Dae, stay out of trouble.”

  He looked at the pot plants again and shook his head before he went upstairs. I heard him yell at Tim to bag up all the pot plants in the basement. No doubt the combination of the pot and the gun drawn on the chief would be a jail sentence for the young couple. Chris excused himself with another apology, telling me he was going to work.

  That left me and Kevin in the basement. Was it me or were these encounters getting more difficult?

  “What have you seen so far?” he asked.

  “I don’t know exactly.” I was reluctant to tell him anything about my visions, knowing he’d take the information to Ann. I knew it shouldn’t matter—we were all trying to save Betsy’s life. I wished I didn’t have so many conflicting emotions about her . . . him . . . us.

  “I meant what I said, Dae. I want you to work with us. It may be the only way we’re going to find that little girl.”

  “I want to help, Kevin. I’m sorry.” I glanced around the room, anywhere except Kevin’s face. I began to realize that Shayla was right. Giving up Kevin and then having my heartstrings tugged by Betsy’s plight was an emotional nightmare for me. The terrible part was, I didn’t know how to let go of either one of them. I couldn’t seem to do anything about either problem, except dig myself in deeper.

  “I know this is hard,” he said. “It’s hard for me too. I envisioned spending the rest of my life with you here in Duck, working at the Blue Whale. I didn’t expect to see Ann again.”

  Here in Duck? Is he leaving? “Is Ann unhappy here?”

  “Miserably so. She wants to go to New York and open up a private consulting firm to find missing children. The Bureau won’t take her back after her meltdown. The best she can hope for is consulting work. That’s why she latched on to this situation. She needs to know she can still do the work.”

  “I see.” That’s why she’d talked to me at Missing Pieces and then found a way to get involved. I hadn’t told him about that visit.

  “Can we find a way to work together on this? I have a feeling you know a lot more than you’re giving away right now. Maybe with what Ann has sensed so far, we’ll be able to bring Betsy home today.”

  How can I say no?

  He was right. I knew more now than I had. I’d seen the face of the man who’d killed Chuck. I didn’t know for sure that he had Betsy, but it seemed a good bet. Since I knew what he looked like, maybe there was some way to identify him.

  “Okay. What do you want to do first?” I hoped he wouldn’t want to go back to the Blue Whale and sit at his kitchen table eating lasagna and drinking wine while we talked things over—without kissing and holding hands—like we’d always done.

  “We’ve set up a kind of command center at the Blue Whale. I have the truck here. Do you want to drive over with me?” he asked as we walked out of the house.

  It was just my luck. Someone was obviously testing me. Pushing me as far as they could—seeing where I’d break. I looked skyward for the culprit, but no sign came from the puffy clouds riding across the dark sky.

  We didn’t talk as we drove through town. Before Ann’s arrival, we’d had a hard time being quiet, crowding in our thoughts around each other’s words. The storm seemed to be chasing us, just like my dark thoughts.

  “What does he look like? No one you recognize, I guess,” he said finally.

  “Excuse me?”

  “The man who killed Chuck. He drives the burgundy Lincoln, right? You’ve seen him by now.”

  “Just a while ago when I touched that old whiskey crate.” I sighed. Maybe Kevin was psychic too. He always seemed to know what I was thinking. It was good that he was keeping us on track—finding Betsy.

  “Would a sketch artist help?”

  “Maybe. I’m not sure. He was very striking. I can tell you that. Someone you’d pick out in a crowd. I’d know him anywhere now.”

  “Let’s hope you don’t see him again until he’s in custody.”

  “But we still don’t know for sure that he has Betsy. We might be chasing the wrong person when we have so little time—although his girlfriend said—”

  “Said? To you? Do you know her?”

  “No. I don’t know her. She was in the Lincoln with him in my last vision. She said he wouldn’t let anything get in the way of his business. She was referring to some bloodstains on his tie that she’d wanted to clean. I think it was probably from shooting Chuck.”

  “How’s dead Chuck doing today? Any visits?”

  “No. Just as well. He always says the same thing.” I told him about Chuck’s visit to Missing Pieces and his quick departure. “With all the energy Shayla says it takes a ghost to come back, you’d think he’d want to say something more important.”

  “Maybe now that we understand what he was trying to say—that we needed to help his daughter—he can rest in peace.”

  “That would be okay with me. Although I’m not really sure that dead Chuck is a ghost. But when I see him, I don’t feel like I’m having a vision. And almost everything about Betsy has come from a dream. I’m not sure at this point if I’m coming or going.”

  “How are you coping with all of it?” He looked over at me in a measured way as he drove slowly into the circle drive that
led to the Blue Whale. “You look—good.”

  “I’m fine,” I answered a little defensively. “I can handle it.”

  I watched his mouth tighten. It was the same strained look he’d worn when he’d first come to Duck. In the last few months, he hadn’t seemed so tense. I knew this was a difficult position for him too. At least I hoped it was. I hoped he was a little miserable without me.

  Right next door to the Blue Whale Inn was the new Duck Historical Museum. Some workmen were in the process of hanging a large sign on the side that faced the inn. It featured a close-up of Mad Dog’s face, smiling like he’d just won the lottery.

  Across the full color picture, it read, “Vote for me. I won’t fool around all Dae.”

  “That’s new,” Kevin said. “How’s the campaign going?”

  “I don’t know,” I admitted. “I guess the Duck Historical Society has made their choice for candidate. I don’t have any big posters, if that’s what you mean. And I’m spending all of my time talking to dead Chuck and his daughter. Mad Dog seems to be devoting all of his time to the campaign.”

  “Don’t worry.” He turned off the truck and absently laid his hand on mine where it rested on the seat between us. “You’ll do fine. You still know more about Duck than he does. Everyone could see that at the debate.”

  “I hope that’s enough.” I was feeling the effects of a long, sleepless night, disappointment and embarrassment.

  “It has to be enough, Dae. You can win this election and find Betsy. I have faith in you.”

  When he squeezed my hand, I thought I’d blubber like a baby, but I managed to keep it together, thank him for his confidence in me and get out of the truck before I completely fell apart.

  I walked past the new mermaid fountain that I’d helped Kevin pick out after a storm had destroyed the old one. The wide veranda with its rocking chairs and flowerpots all looked the same as they had the last time I’d been here. I ran my hand across the antique hitching post where gentlemen in the 1920s had tied their horses when they went in for dinner and a drink.