Like when my mother started talking.
I slipped over Quinn’s prone body and onto the cold floorboards. Still naked, I shivered and reached for my underclothes, sweatpants, tee shirt, and my husband’s chamois shirt. Warmer now, I tiptoed out to the living area where Beau snored on the couch. He’d been pretty polite about the whole “stay out of the bedroom” situation, considering Callie never slept without him. I guess he realized when Quinn and I closed the door and slid into bed, we meant business.
I stared at his giant body and chuckled. He never would have fit on that bed with us, anyway.
I started the coffee, took Beau outside for a walk, then rummaged through my handbag for my brush. Instead of prickly bristles, my hands closed around Callie’s pink diary.
The mood ring on my right hand glowed blue in the early sunlight. It seemed to wink at me, flashing in the quiet of the morning. Once again, I wondered who had taken it that summer day. Callie or Sky?
I shook off the thought with a toss of my head. Biting my lip and leaning over, I pried at the diary. The cheap lock resisted when I twisted a bobby pin into it. I tried the point of a sharp knife and my file. Frustrated, I gave up and clipped the tab holding it together with my nail scissors. Callie wouldn’t mind if it gave me some kind of clue about her whereabouts.
Settling into the rocker on the enclosed porch with Beau at my feet, I opened the diary, surprised at the musty odor wafting up from the pages.
The river’s rumble sifted through the open windows, grounding me. Here, I felt safe. Anonymous. No prying eyes to watch me, no bastards to break in and rip up my furniture.
It was an old diary. On the first page, Callie had scrawled her name, age, address and phone number. She’d been sixteen. I checked the last page and realized it went through Christmas of that year.
The months of January through May were empty. With a start, I realized why. I’d given the book to her on her sixteenth birthday, on June 8th. The memories rushed back. We’d worn sundresses and sandals, driven with my family to the town sidewalk sales, and that’s where I’d bought my mood ring. I gave her the diary at her party that night at my house. I’d made a strawberry cake for her—her favorite. Sky had been there, too, along with a few of our less idiotic girlfriends.
I started reading, twisting the mood ring around my finger as I did. I still wondered how it had ended up in that little hidey-hole. Had Callie taken it? Or had Sky?
And why?
It made no sense.
Maybe Callie had gone back to the sidewalk sales the next day and bought one for herself. But why keep it in such a secure place? It wasn’t expensive.
No. It had to be the one I lost at the fair. And it still fit me, although on my pinky finger now.
Callie’s first entries were a boring catalog of events.
June 10th: Finals are done. Passed English and Civics. Failed gym. Have to retake it next year. I hate gym!
June 11th: Can’t wait for the weekend. Marcie an’ Sky and I are going canoeing. Mum says maybe I can get a dog, but I don’t think she means it. I want a dog!
June 12th: I think I’m a freak. I know I’m a freak. What’s wrong with me? The more I think about it, the more confused I am. I get all flushed when I’m near her. My heart beats so fast. She’s so beautiful. Am I crazy?
June 15th: Best time of my life with Sky and Marcie. Sunny day. Saw a loon. Played my guitar by the fire after our outing. Marcie and Sky sang with me, Beatle songs, in harmony. Great night.
I flipped forward, noting comments that seemed innocuous. There was no more mention of the girl who seemed to make Callie’s heart beat too fast. I wondered–who the heck was she? Someone at school? A friend? A teacher?
July 5th: Felt that way again and wanted to kiss her. Wanted to lie beside her on the soft sand, her naked body next to mine. I can’t believe I wrote that, or that I feel it. I’m getting all achy and longing for her in ways I never knew were possible. My legs shake. My hands shake. I want to touch her hair, to feel it against my body. I am a freak. I can never tell a soul.
July 10th: Gonna ask her to sleep out in the tent.
A flash of irrational jealousy passed through me. Who was this girl that Callie had asked to sleep over in her tent? Why hadn’t she told me about her? Was she trying to hide her, like she’d hidden her sexual inclinations from me?
As ridiculous as it was, I bristled at the thought of Callie having a secret life. I thought I was her best friend. I thought she trusted me.
I guess I’d been wrong.
I reached down to Beau’s collar to move him off my tingling foot. “Buddy, come on. My foot’s numb.”
An electric shock shot through me, not as bad as the time I plugged in the toaster with wet fingers, but startling and prickly. The vision of the screened in porch faded, and in my mind’s eye, I saw Callie with her big, sad violet eyes and downturned mouth. Pine plank walls shimmered behind her.
Water splashed in the distance.
As if a camera were zooming in and out on the scene, it now revealed Callie’s hands. Ropes bound her wrists.
I sat up with a start and let go of Beau’s collar.
“What the hell was that?”
Beau sat up and put his heavy paw on my lap. I touched the collar again, this time with one finger. Again, the sensation shivered up my arm and into my brain.
A strong sensation of Callie washed over me.
Callie in trouble, on a lake, or near a small waterfall. I saw the wavy image of a stuffed bass on the wall behind her.
I jerked back and stared at the dog with wide eyes. “Is it you, Beau? Are you sending me these pictures?” Patting his head, I stared at the fabric collar Callie had made, noticing for the first time a lump on the bottom, as if something small and bumpy were embedded inside the folded material.
“Come here, big guy.” I pulled him closer and unsnapped the collar, examining it in the light of the bright morning sun. “What the heck?” I picked at a couple of loose stitches near the lump. After ripping it wider with my nail file, a small chunk of amber crystal fell into my hand.
I talked out loud to Beau, glad for the company. “This is just like the one in Sky’s box.” I rolled it between my fingers, then held it up to the light. Sparkling with amber light, it glistened exactly like the larger piece. She must have broken it off the end of Sky’s rock, but why?
“Callie’s always doing this kind of stuff.”
Beau licked my hand, sniffed the crystal, and wagged his tail.
“Did she want to make some mystical connection with you? Huh? Is that why she did this?”
I still hadn’t answered the question of how or why I’d seen Callie’s image when I squeezed the crystal. Had I imagined it? Hallucinated it? Had someone slipped drugs into my coffee?
I palmed it, wishing for the phenomenon to happen again.
Nothing.
“Where’d she go, buddy?”
Beau walked to the door, whining. His tail wagged furiously.
“You want to show me? Is that it?”
He barked.
I realized my wishful, pathetic desires were probably really the dog’s need to pee again. But what if she’d performed some kind of a bonding ceremony with the dog, using the crystal? She swore on such nutty rituals.
I turned the amber in my hands again, squeezing it a little. Nothing.
Maybe Sky’s crystal had bonded her to him. Maybe she’d seen a vision of Sky, and gone after him.
Maybe she wasn’t kidnapped after all?
I stood up and paced back and forth on the sun porch.
No. The memory of her bound wrists flooded my brain. Someone was holding her captive; there was no doubt about it.
I couldn’t handle the insanity any longer. I got up, filled Beau’s water and food dish, downed a cup of coffee, took a quick shower, and went in to wake up Quinn.
I had to find Callie
Chapter 15
“I’m telling you, Marcella. We have to w
ait ‘til dark. We can’t spy on them in broad daylight.”
I closed my eyes. I knew he was right. We couldn’t just walk up to Dr. Trebangle’s door and announce ourselves. When I’d called and asked about Sky, he’d been so afraid of someone hearing him talk about his son, I was sure he’d bolt or slam the door in our faces if we didn’t approach him alone. “I know. It’s just so hard sitting here, doing nothing.” I twisted the mood ring around my pinky finger and tried to massage the amber crystal into showing me something about Callie for the five hundredth time.
Nothing.
I’d told Quinn about the vision, and he’d listened with interest. Maybe his Seneca Indian upbringing gave him more insight or tolerance regarding visions. He’d talked about them before, and I’d always been the skeptic.
He shifted on his chair, reaching for another tuna sandwich. We’d been going over our plans for hours, and I could hardly believe it was already noon.
“We’ve got to either follow him to the store or catch his son paying a visit. It might take a few days.”
“Or a few weeks.” I slammed my glass of iced tea on the table harder than I’d intended, slopping a little over the side. “What if Callie’s dead by the time we find her?” My lower lip trembled. “Do you think we should have called the cops?”
Quinn’s mouth tightened, and he shook his head. “With what evidence? They still think she killed her sister. If they did find her, she’d end up in jail. Seems like they weren’t seriously looking to catch the culprit. They just wanted a scapegoat.”
“True.” I pushed back from the table and stood by the window, letting the breeze that came off the river blow my hair back. The scent was fresh. Clean. I inhaled it for strength and wondered if they’d ever made an oil out of it.
“I’m going to study the map some more. Maybe we can figure something out from that. Wanna help?”
He popped the last bite into his mouth. “Sure thing. Let me do up the dishes first.”
While Quinn squirted dishwasher soap laced with lemon and lavender oils onto the plates, I booted up my computer and studied the maps of nearby lakes, wishing we’d installed Internet service here for the millionth time. I thought it was quaint before, but now I wasn’t so sure. I’d like to know more about the Outsourcers.
“Wait a minute.” I snapped my computer shut. “That disclaimer on Sky’s memory stick said Outsourcers was based in Speculator.”
Quinn dried his hands on a dishtowel and hung it up, taking care to make it perfectly even. “Uh huh.” He wasn’t even looking at me.
“Quinn!”
His head snapped around and his long-lashed eyes popped. “What?”
“I was talking to you.”
“Oh.” He smiled and shrugged. “Sorry. I was thinking.”
“About what?”
“Callie. Sky. The oils.”
I walked up to him, realizing he’d been trying just as hard as I was to figure this mess out. “Right. And I’ll bet this Outsourcer group has a lot to do with it. They were listed right up front in the files Sky gave Callie.”
His eyes lit up. “Yes. And weren’t they located up in Speculator?”
I sighed and smiled. I’d give him this one. “I think you’re right, honey.” I slid my arms around his neck. “Maybe we should go check it out?”
Beau barked when he heard the word “out” and started shuffling at our feet, bouncing in only the way big lumbering dogs do.
I knelt to hug his neck and let him lick my cheek. “Okay, boy. Okay. You wanna come with us? Wanna go for a ride?”
He turned on his heels with the alacrity of a terrier, and waited by the door, his big tail wagging furiously.
I grabbed my purse, slid into my sandals, and followed Quinn and Beau out to the van.
Quinn eased us onto Route 30 and swung left, heading north to Speculator. When we passed Pumpkin Hollow Road, my throat tightened, and I exchanged an anxious glance with my husband.
He understood my pleading expression and put a hand on my leg. “Tonight, babe. Gotta wait.”
“I know.”
Almost in a trance, I watched the Sacandaga River wind through the woods and mountains as the road paralleled its snaking path. It shifted from our left to our right, and almost all the way to Speculator I focused on its majesty, mesmerized by its rapid flow, the white ruffles of foam where it hit protruding rocks, and the bright glints of sun winking in the afternoon light.
“Here. Put some of this on.” Quinn rummaged in his pocket and took out a lavender-colored roll-on vial. “It’s called Tranquil.”
I opened the cap and sniffed. “Is there lavender in this one? It’s nice.”
He nodded, his crazy, wide smile revealing how deliriously happy he was that I was in tune with him. “Exactly. You’re getting to know the scents, aren’t you?”
“What else is in it?”
“Cedarwood and Roman chamomile.”
I closed my eyes and inhaled deeply, letting the aroma move deep into my being. “I love it.”
“Roll some on your wrists.”
“Okay.”
Beau stuck his head over the console and sniffed at the bottle.
“You want some, boy?” I laughed, thinking myself funny.
Quinn glanced at the big dog and then toward the vial. “Put a few drops on his coat. It’d be good for him.”
“Really? On a dog?”
“They use oils on animals all the time with great success. I was just reading about it in the reference book. Long as you’re careful to dilute it if it’s a strong one, like peppermint. But a dab on the back of his neck would do him good.”
I looked at Beau’s big, worried eyes. “Maybe you’re right.” I squirmed around in my seatbelt to get closer to the dog and rolled a little on my fingers. “Come here, buddy.” He put both giant paws on the console, and started to lap my arm. I stroked the fur behind his neck and applied the oil. Whether or not he realized my intent, he seemed grateful for the attention. “Good boy. Okay, now go back to your bed.”
With one final lap, he dropped back and flopped on his bed. His eyes closed, and somehow I knew he was dreaming of Callie.
Chapter 16
En route to Speculator, we passed The Mountain Memories Gift Shop, in Wells, New York. The log cabin style building boasted covered porches lined with café tables and chairs. Its railings overflowed with flowerboxes riotous with color. With a stab of guilt, I realized we hadn’t yet paid a visit to my Aunt Roberta. We’d just met her last year, after my stepfather Raoul died. He’d kept her a secret, much like his past, and a world of long-kept mysteries had opened up to us when we’d finally uncovered the truth.
Quinn slowed down and looked at the shop, where a number of customers had stopped, most likely for my aunt’s amazing daily soup and sandwich specials. “Your aunt might know a bit about the local goings on.”
“You read my mind, hon. Let’s stop in on our way back.”
“Deal.” He stepped on the gas and sped north on Route 30 towards Speculator. “So, where do you want to start?”
“Let’s go to that cute little country store first.”
“Charlie Johns?”
“That’s it. Maybe one of the girls at the checkout will know who the Outsourcers are.”
“Okay. Anyway, we need more paper towels.”
I chuckled. “Right. And I’d like to get one of those detailed maps of the area. Can’t carry my laptop around and stare at the maps on the screen. It’s too hard.”
We rolled past a glassy surfaced Lake Pleasant on our left, greeted by the usual charm of a small Adirondack town. Diner. Auto shop. Ice cream parlor. Motor lodge. Liquor store. Restaurants.
At the crossroads of Routes 8 and 30, we pulled into the lot in front of Charlie Johns and parked.
Quinn looked at Beau with a frown. “We can’t leave him out here. It’s too hot. And we can’t take him in.” He smiled at the still sleeping dog. “I’ll stay here with the AC cranked, and you go inside.
But don’t forget the paper towels.”
I was half out of the car before he finished. “Right. Back in a flash.”
I loved the country store appeal of Charlie Johns. Chock full of groceries, camping supplies, hardware, books, maps, toys, and even lawn and garden goods, it was my favorite store in the area. There was something about the charm that was pure Adirondack, and even though I couldn’t put my finger on it, it appealed to me immensely.
As much as I wanted to linger and stroll down the aisles looking for treasures, I found a good map and grabbed a three-pack of paper towels, then headed to the register.
I chose the line with a sweet-faced woman in her fifties with short dark hair and bright blue eyes. A teenager manned the second counter, and cute as she was, I didn’t think she’d have the same knowledge of Speculator as this woman would.
She slid the paper towels toward her. “Find everything you needed?”
I gave her what I hoped was a dazzling smile. “Oh, yes. I just wish I had more time to look around. I love this store.”
Her eyes crinkled. “That’s what everyone says.” She rang up the map and pronounced the total.
I swiped my debit card. “I’m looking for someone, though. Can’t seem to find the place.”
“Oh?” She perked up. “Who is it?”
“My friend. She doesn’t know I’m in the area, and I wanted to surprise her. She works at Outsourcers. You heard of the place?”
As if I’d asked her to kiss the devil, she pulled back and shook her head. “No. Never heard of it.”
“I was told it’s in Speculator.”
Her boss, a pleasant looking gray-haired gentleman ambled closer. “Beth? Is there a problem?”
Beth shook her head. “No, sir. Everything’s fine. This lady was just looking for some place called the Outsourcers.”
The manager reached my side. “Don’t think you got the town right, miss. There’s no place like that around here.” He shot Beth a warning look, then practically ushered me toward the exit. “Thanks for stopping by. Always happy to serve you.”
Tall Pines Mysteries: A Mystery/Suspense Boxed Set Page 32
