Part III
The Disappearance
of Moss Hathaway
Chapter Eight
Amelia couldn’t wait to get her grandmother on the phone. She couldn’t waste time on small talk. She needed to know the truth. Her grandmother’s mind was fading slowly. Would she remember something that happened so long ago? This time when she called, her grandmother answered on the first ring.
“Grandma, I found a bundle of Necey’s letters in her bedroom, and I read them. Moss talked about his paintings and creating his best work ever. Where are they? I’ve searched the cabin and can’t find any paintings except that large one of Necey on the wall of the living room. There are no records of Moss Hathaway paintings after he disappeared into the woods thirty years ago.”
Silence greeted Amelia over the phone. Finally, her grandmother answered.
“It’s not something I can talk about right now, sweetheart.”
“Well, when can you talk about it? I have to know what you don’t seem to want to tell me.” Amelia sensed her grandmother’s hesitation over the phone.
“Not now. Maybe never. I think sending you there might have been a mistake.”
Her grandmother was a stubborn woman, so Amelia knew nothing she said would get her to change her mind. Disappointed, she’d have to try again later. What was her grandmother afraid of? What secrets wasn’t she willing to reveal?
Chapter Nine
Amelia straightened Necey’s room, cleaned up the kitchen, dusted the furniture, and waited for Alec on the living room couch. She never knew she could be so domestic. At home, she ordered out. She wasn’t much of a cook, wasn’t interested in cooking in the least. But she was a houseguest, of sorts, even though the house belonged to her family. She even considered putting a batch of cookies in the oven. At this point she would have done anything to keep busy. She feared she would jump out of her skin if Alec didn’t come home soon. She had a lot to tell him and a lot of questions to ask him.
Of course, her eyes drifted right to the painting of Necey. How could they not? She was drawn to the emotion, the mystery, the fragile vulnerability, the beauty, the naughtiness, and the happiness expressed in Necey’s face. This picture was more compelling than the Mona Lisa. Necey, too, was hiding a secret. She was pregnant with her lover’s child, her married lover’s child. This was the best Moss Hathaway painting Amelia had ever seen.
Her mother had named her Amelia after Amelia Earhart, another famous person who had disappeared. And now she was determined to find the key to Moss Hathaway’s disappearance.
Amelia heard a car pull up the steep driveway and listened as the tires crunched against the gravel. Someone needed to pave that road. She jumped up from the couch and peeked out the window. It was Alec. Her breath caught in her throat. Was she ready to have this conversation?
“Honey, I’m home,” said Alec, smiling as he lumbered into the cabin. Well, they both called it the cabin, but it was hardly that anymore. Alec looked like he wanted to scoop her up in a giant bear hug, and she wanted him to, but not now. Getting cozy with her new roommate was constantly on her mind, but now was definitely not the time. Amelia was surprised at how comfortable they already were with each other after only a few days. Her pulse quickened every time she saw him. She couldn’t imagine what it would be like to live without him.
Amelia looked up at Necey’s picture and for the second time that day wondered what it would be like to have someone love you like that. Specifically, what it would be like to have Alec love her like that. The man was definitely getting to her. She was even developing a soft spot for Confrontation. But now it was time for a confrontation of a different kind.
“Alec,” she said, nodding her head and patting a place beside her on the couch. “Come here and sit down.”
Alec looked at her strangely. “We need to get going. I have several appointments set up for us.”
“The appointments can wait. I need to talk to you.”
Alec sat next to her on the couch. “I thought you were all about selling the cabin. Now you’re hesitating? Have you changed your mind?”
“I haven’t changed my mind, but there’s something we need to discuss first.”
“You sound serious. What’s this about?”
Amelia pointed to the painting, the focal point in the room.
“It’s about your mother. Do you know when this portrait was painted?”
“Sometime before I was born, I guess. She said she was pregnant in the picture, pregnant with me. She said it was the happiest time in her life.”
“Yes. But do you know what put that smile on her face?”
“I don’t know. My dad, maybe?”
“Who exactly is your dad?” Amelia asked carefully.
Alec’s face flushed, and he bowed his head. “I don’t know.”
“Is it Bunnell?”
“Bundy is my uncle, not my father. My mother hated Bundy.”
“Are you sure? What did your mother tell you about your father?”
Alec rubbed his arm. “That she loved him so much, and that he would have loved me if he had known me.”
“What was the relationship between your mother and Bunnell?” Amelia asked gently.
“She was his sister.”
“And nothing more?”
Alec scowled. “It wasn’t like that.”
Amelia placed her hand on Alec’s arm. “Then why don’t you tell me what it was like?”
Alec pushed her hand away. “You Florida people think you can come up here and dictate morality—your version of morality. You think you can judge us?”
Amelia faced him and spoke deliberately. “That’s not what I was trying to do.”
“You don’t know anything.”
“Alec. Who do you think your father was? You must have some idea.”
“I told you, I never met my father,” Alec said stubbornly.
She risked asking him again. “Do you think your father was Bunnell?”
Alec offered a silent scowl. “Do you know what you’re saying? That would be incest.”
“Is that why you tolerate him hanging around? Is that why you haven’t turned him in to authorities, out of some misguided sense of family loyalty? Is that why you haven’t left Confrontation?”
“I thought you came here to sell a house. Now you’re snooping into our family business, where you don’t belong. You need to go. Now.”
“I told you I’m not going anywhere until I sell this house, and now I’m not leaving until I get some answers.”
“What kind of answers?”
“The truth. I’m looking for the truth. And I’m not sure you even know it.”
Alec raised his voice. “You’re not making any sense. You’re grilling me. I can smell the smoke a mile away. Everything was fine until you got here and stirred things up. Feelings up.”
Amelia bit back a smile. In his way, Alec was admitting his vulnerability to her. He was agitated, but why? She thought he had finally learned to trust her, but that trust was disintegrating.
“Alec, I asked you before if you’ve ever heard of the painter Moss Hathaway.”
Alec glanced up at the portrait. “His name’s on that painting.”
“Did you ever wonder why he painted that picture? What his relationship was to your mother?”
“That was a long time ago.”
“Alec, did you know that Moss Hathaway disappeared thirty years ago? His car was found abandoned right here in Confrontation. But his body was never found.”
“So he got lost. Lots of people do. What does that have to do with my mother?”
“Alec, Moss Hathaway lived in this cabin, and he painted in this cabin, and here is where he fell in love with your mother.”
Alec looked stunned. “How do you know that?”
“Wait here,” Amelia said, getting up and going to Necey’s room to retrieve the packet of letters. She came out and handed them to Alec.
“Here, read these. I believe th
ey’re love letters between your mother and your father.”
Alec handled the fragile letters as if they were spun of silk, as delicate as orchid blossoms that musn’t be touched.
“I never saw these before.”
“That’s what I thought. Read them, and I’ll make us some lunch. It might take you a while.”
Alec laid the bundle of letters on his lap and started unwrapping the ribbon, unraveling his past.
Chapter Ten
Amelia sat scrunched up in the rocking chair, under an afghan she had taken from Necey’s bed, her eyes focused on Alec, watching his expressions change as Moss’s words flowed and his mother’s answered. Puzzlement. Amazement. Bewilderment. She wanted to go to him, to comfort him, to fill in the blanks, what blanks she knew, but this was something he had to process himself.
“Do you have a picture of Moss Hathaway?” Alec asked, finally.
“Yes, you can see for yourself. He’s all over the Internet.” She walked over and sat down next to Alec on the couch. She opened her laptop, and with a few clicks Moss Hathaway stared back at him. The likeness was undeniable. It wasn’t just the eyes. It was the entire face. He was staring at the face of his father. A father he never knew. It was apparent Alec hadn’t known the truth. That the secret had died with Necey. Had he believed Bundy was his father all this time? He called Bundy his uncle. And who was Marie Antoinette? She called Bundy her daddy. But who was her mother, really? And where was she?
Alec breathed out a strong sigh of relief.
“You can see that it’s true,” Amelia said gently. “And after reading their letters, how much in love they were.”
“But then why? What happened? Why did he leave her if he loved her so much? Why did he leave me?”
“Alec, surely you must have heard stories about a man who came to the cabin and what happened to that man? My grandmother was there that day. She witnessed the whole thing, but she won’t tell me.”
“What did she say? I want to know exactly what happened.”
“Well, I couldn’t say for sure, because I wasn’t here, but she told me that your uncle came to the cabin and caught Necey and Moss in bed together. He dragged her out of his arms and shoved them both into the living room. But that’s as much as she’d tell me.”
“Well, then, I need to talk to her. I need answers.”
“Of course. I can call her, and we can talk to her together.”
Alec fixed his eyes, Moss’s eyes, on her. “It sounds like you care what happens to me.”
“I need you to sell this cabin for me, so no, I don’t want anything to happen to you.”
“Is that the only reason? I think I’m starting to grow on you. I think this place is starting to grow on you.” It was freaky the way the man could read her mind.
“The truth is I can’t wait to get out of here. And I don’t know why you stay here. Your mother is gone, so you’re free to go back to New York or wherever you want to go.”
“What exactly do you have to rush home for?”
“I have a job and a life.”
“You told me yourself you don’t have anyone to go home to. And this is my home. I’m not selling it.”
“It’s not yours to sell.”
Chapter Eleven
Amelia dialed her grandmother’s number and covered the mouthpiece. “Let me talk to her first,” she whispered to Alec. “I promise I’ll fill you in if she’s ready to talk.” Alec pounded his fist impatiently into his hand but finally walked into the kitchen to give Amelia some privacy.
Before she could let Alec speak to her grandmother, she needed more information. She needed to solve the mystery of Moss’ disappearance.
“Grandma, I need to know what happened that day.”
“What day?”
“The last day you saw Moss Hathaway.”
Amelia could hear the emotion in her grandmother’s voice.
“He shot that beautiful, talented man between his eyes, right in front of all of us.”
“Oh, my God, Grandma. You saw Moss Hathaway being murdered?”
“Yes. Necey went crazy, screaming and crying, ‘No! No! No!’ She ran over to Moss and cradled his head in her arms, and there was blood everywhere on her silky white nightgown. Bunnell was in a blind rage. He turned the gun on Necey, and he would have shot her, too, if your grandfather hadn’t intervened.
“Luckily, Bunnell came to his senses in time and didn’t shoot us all. But he threatened that if we ever told anyone what happened, he would kill us. He would hunt us down wherever we were and shoot us. That we could never hide from him. I hated to leave Necey alone with that monster. But she had her sisters and her family. Bunnell got rid of the body, of Moss, and when the police came around, we said nothing. I told Necey she could stay at our place, and we left and never went back. I kept in touch with Necey, and six months later she had a little boy. She said Bunnell never bothered her after the incident, if you know what I mean. Whenever he came around he was always drunk, and when he threatened her she swore she’d go to the police, so he pretty much left her alone. Everyone knew Moss was the boy’s father.”
So, the whole town of Confrontation had known the truth about Alec’s father. Everyone, apparently, but Alec.
“You said he had blue eyes and—” Amelia conjured up Alec’s face. There was no doubt in her mind. Alec was the son of Moss Hathaway.
“Does Alec know?” Katherine asked.
“I don’t think he did. I don’t think his mother told him. She was probably trying to protect him.”
“According to her letters to me, they were very close. He took care of her for years before she died. You’d think she would have confided in him. Why don’t you ask him?”
“I think he has secretly believed Bunnell Brady is his father. He’s ashamed of his uncle, and at the same time he’s protecting him out of some misguided sense of family loyalty. Everyone around here knows something, but they’re not talking.”
“That man shouldn’t be allowed to roam free. He was so violent I can’t believe he hasn’t been locked up by now. Can we be sure your Alec is Moss Hathaway’s son?”
“He’s not my Alec, but I’ve seen the pictures of Moss Hathaway, and he’s what you’d call the spitting image of his father.”
“They were so much in love. And he never got to see his son.”
Amelia wiped her eyes, but the tears wouldn’t stop flowing. How was she going to break the news to Alec?
Amelia continued to question her grandmother. “Why didn’t you report him to the authorities once you got back home?”
“Because I took him at his word when he said he would kill us. He meant it, Amelia.”
“I’ve seen him. He looks like a wild mountain man. He gave me a fright, looking in at me through the picture window the first night I was here.”
“You’d better get out of there,” Katherine warned. “If that man is still roaming those woods, he’s a threat to you if he knows you’re related to me. Stay as far away from him as you can. When are you going to talk to Alec?”
“He’s in the next room.”
“Be careful.”
Knowing Bundy had killed Moss, was she brave enough to expose the truth? The last thing she wanted to do was tango with a killer, especially a killer named Bundy. What would she tell Alec? How would she tell him?
If Moss was murdered here, then what happened to his work?
She posed the question to her grandmother.
“Necey gave them to me for safekeeping,” said Katherine.
“You’ve had the Moss Hathaways all these years?” Amelia could hardly contain her excitement. “Where are they?”
“In a safe place.”
“Tell me, Grandma, where are they?”
“Are you afraid I’ll forget?”
“No, but we can’t keep those paintings locked away. They belong in a museum. They belong to the world. Tell me about them.”
“There are dozens of them. Unframed, loose, painting
after painting. Mostly of Necey, and pictures of the mountains. The cabin. Brilliant pictures. Pictures that would take your breath away. Pictures that would make you swoon.”
She couldn’t wait to see the rest of the collection. What a discovery! What a treasure trove, and her grandmother had been sitting on it all these years, sitting on one of the biggest secrets of modern times, the solution to the mysterious disappearance of one of the greatest artists of this generation.
“Has anyone else seen them?”
“Over the years, she asked me to sell off a couple of the paintings to help pay for Alec’s education. She felt that Moss would have liked knowing that he had contributed to sending his son to college.”
“What a sweet thought.”
“When I heard that Necey had passed, I thought we should sell the place and be finished with the whole nightmare, which is why I sent you down there. I had no idea Bunnell would still be around after all these years.”
“Oh, my God, Grandma. I need to process this. I’ll call you back.”
Alec came out of the kitchen, a grim look on his face.
“Alec, what’s wrong?”
“I was listening in on the other phone.” He had overheard the conversation. “Uncle Bundy killed my father?”
Amelia shook her head. “I’m sorry you had to find out that way. According to my grandmother, he did. And my grandparents never returned to the cabin after the incident because he threatened to kill them.”
“So Uncle Bundy is not…”
Amelia looked up at Alec. “All the evidence points to the fact that Moss Hathaway was your father.”
Alec rubbed his head. “All these years I thought…”
“You thought Bundy was your father.” She could see that he had.
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