The Forgotten Daughter

by Lauri Robinson

  “Peddling some whiskey up in these woods, was he?” John asked.

  Scooter didn’t agree or disagree, and didn’t want to further his lie, either. “Good thing there’s a southbound train,” he said, leaving it up to John to make his own assumptions. As Clyde Odell climbed out of the truck’s passenger door, he added, “I’ll be back in a minute.”

  John followed, and so did Dac, to whom Scooter tossed the key he’d taken out of his pocket. Surprisingly Josie stayed back. He’d expected her to follow on his heels. Dac and John stopped to talk to the driver while Scooter walked around the front of the big rig, admiring it.

  “Don’t worry,” Clyde said, meeting him near the headlight mounted on the passenger side of the front bumper. “No one saw us and Howard won’t say a thing. Not to anyone.”

  Scooter nodded. “I don’t have a lot of cash on me, but I’ll send—”

  “There’s no delivery charge,” Clyde said. “Not in money.”

  “What do you want to know?”

  With a slight gesture of his head in Josie’s direction, Clyde said, “First, I need to know what’s behind your girlfriend and Francine Wilks.”

  The man had helped him twice today, finding Josie and delivering Dave’s car. If he could also help stop Francine, Scooter would promise him free gas for the rest of his life. Trying to keep the story short was the hard part. He chose to start with Maize and how Galen Reynolds had taken her to Duluth, then he shared how Josie had got involved and how she’d been providing condoms to the girls on the docks for the past couple of years, including what she’d seen the day she’d been arrested. Next, he quickly covered what had happened last weekend and what Ty had told him about Francine.

  Clyde listened the entire time, nodding once in a while and glancing toward Josie several times. When Scooter ended his tale, Clyde said, “You left out the part about her being Roger Nightingale’s daughter.”

  Scooter nodded and then shrugged. “Because you already know.”

  Clyde grinned.

  Oddly enough, Scooter was reminded of Forrest.

  “I do now,” Clyde said. “My driver, Howard, is a local man. He saw the resort brochures, and knew that was Dave Sutton’s Chevy.” Clyde leaned a hand on the truck’s bumper. “Nightingale has no idea what his daughter is involved in, has he?”

  Scooter shook his head.

  “And you’re trying to keep it that way.”

  “I have to,” Scooter admitted. “There are others who could be hurt. Once I’ve figured out a way to put a stop to Francine chasing Josie, I’ll tell Roger everything, and accept the consequences.”

  “I don’t doubt you will,” Clyde said. “I sense you’re a man of your word. I also trust you can keep a secret when it needs to be kept.”

  Scooter wasn’t sure how to take that statement.

  Clyde gestured toward the field full of cars, and started walking that way. Scooter followed. They stopped far enough away that they could see everyone—Josie near Dac’s truck, as well as Dac and John, all watching the driver now unloading Dave’s car from the long trailer behind the big rig.

  “Someday, Eric, you’ll realize the right people come into our lives when the time is right, that things happen exactly when they are supposed to. Usually we’re too impatient to wait for that time. We want everything now, not later.”

  Scooter’s spine tingled as Clyde’s gaze once again found Josie.

  “I told you earlier today I once knew a woman from Minnesota,” Clyde said. “I thought her name was Rose Nightingale, but I could have been wrong. You mentioned another woman who had gone to New York. I need to know everything you know about her.”

  Scooter wasn’t surprised when his instincts wanted to know why this man wanted to know about Karen Reynolds. The only thing he could think of was her husband, Galen. If Clyde had been involved in any of Galen’s dealings, Scooter didn’t want anything to do with him.

  “While you’re thinking,” Clyde said, “I’ll mention that I talked to the chief of police in Duluth today. There’ll be a raid on Francine’s business.”

  “When?”

  “The chief will call me back with the details.”

  Scooter shook his head. “Don’t hold your breath. The police don’t care about some young Indian girls.” It was common knowledge that most didn’t consider the folks on the reservations equals. That whatever happened to them was of little concern.

  “They do if they believe J. P. Morgan has Indian blood running through his veins.”

  “He does?” Scooter asked. He’d never met the man, but everyone had heard of him.

  “He might,” Clyde said. “Who knows what any of us might find if we chase our roots back far enough. The bottom line is that US Steel puts a lot of money in the pockets of Duluth citizens. If the company was to go somewhere else, the town would feel the loss. If you were the chief of police, who would you be more interested in keeping happy? A multimillion-dollar company or a few criminal citizens who believe others are beneath them?”

  Clyde didn’t stop there. “I grew up in the slums of New York. The poorest of the poor. I know what it’s like to have others believe you’re inferior. If there is a warehouse full of young girls, which I believe there is, they need to be returned to their families. And I’ll cherish being the man to railroad Francine back to New York. That neighborhood I grew up in was ruled by the Eastman gang. I had friends, family, die at their hands.”

  Scooter had been following the man’s every word. “So that’s why you want to know about Karen Reynolds. Because of her husband. Galen.”

  Clyde’s eyes narrowed in a thoughtful way. “What about him?”

  “He was associated with the Eastman gang,” Scooter responded.

  “Was or is?”

  “Was. He’s in prison in California right now, Roger Nightingale saw to that. Forrest Reynolds made sure he’ll never get out.”

  “Who’s Forrest?”

  “Karen’s son.” Forrest had learned a few years ago that Galen wasn’t his father, and Scooter respected his friend’s wish to not be called Galen’s son.

  “How old is he?”

  “About my age,” Scooter said, although Forrest was three years older. “Midtwenties.”

  “Tell me about Karen. When did she go to New York?” Clyde asked.

  “My mother could tell you more,” Scooter admitted. “All I know is the bits and pieces I’ve heard. Karen’s father owned the Plantation nightclub and was the richest man in the area for a time. He built the amusement park next to the nightclub when the resorts in the area were thriving. He also sent both of his daughters to school out in New York. When Karen returned...” Scooter shrugged, he really didn’t know all the details. “She might have already been married to Galen, or it happened shortly afterward. He was from New York. Karen’s father died a couple of years later and Galen took over running the nightclub. It became a playground for gangsters. For years. If it was illegal, you could bet Galen was involved in it.”

  “Your mother and Karen were friends?” Clyde asked.

  Scooter shook his head. “Yes and no. My mother claims they were friends before Karen went to New York, but afterward, after Karen married Galen, he wouldn’t let her have any friends. Other than Rose Nightingale. Roger had something to do with that. I don’t know what, but Forrest practically lived at the Nightingales’ home when he wasn’t down in the city at an all-boys school.”

  “Where are Karen and her son, Forrest, now?”

  Scooter was starting to wonder if he’d said too much, but it was all common knowledge. “They live at the Plantation in White Bear Lake.”

  “I was so close,” Clyde muttered.

  “Excuse me?” Scooter said.

  Clyde waved a hand. “Nothing. Well, it is something, but I have to deal with Francine first, then I’ll tell you. You have a phone?”

  “Yes, Scooter’s Garage in White Bear Lake.”

  “I’ll call you tomorrow with an update.” Clyde held out
a hand. “You have no idea how much I appreciate meeting you, Eric. But someday you will. I promise you.”

  “I appreciate meeting you, too, Clyde,” Scooter said, accepting the man’s firm handshake. “I’m indebted for all you’ve done for me today.”

  “Then we’re even.” Gesturing toward Josie, Clyde added, “Now you best get Roger Nightingale’s daughter home. No one followed us and no one will follow you. I made sure of it. I will call you tomorrow.”

  * * *

  Josie watched as Scooter and the man shook hands and then walked away from each other. The man went to the truck and Scooter strode toward her. She’d give anything to have been a field mouse hiding in the tall grass and listening to what they’d said to one another. It seemed to be a very serious conversation, yet they were both smiling by the end.

  The stranger, who seemed oddly familiar, waved to her as he climbed into the passenger side of the big truck. She waved back at him and the driver, who started up the truck.

  “Get in Dave’s car,” Scooter told her. “I’ll drive you home.”

  “What was...who...” Recalling her promise and catching the way John looked at her, she flipped her question around and whispered, “What about your motorcycle?”

  “Dac will drop it off for me,” Scooter whispered in return, picking up the car radiator. Then, loud enough for John to hear, he told Dac, “Drop this off at the station for me, will you? Along with my stuff in the back. I’ll catch a ride home from the resort with Maize.”

  “Sure thing,” Dac said.

  Scooter then shook John’s hand. “Always a pleasure doing business with you. Catch you again soon.”

  The man replied and waved to all of them once they’d climbed in their vehicles, Dac in his truck, she and Scooter in Dave’s Chevy.

  “Who was that man?” she asked as soon as they started down the driveway.

  “Why?”

  “Because he looks familiar to me,” she said, wondering if she’d seen him on the docks in Duluth at some point.

  “You don’t know him,” Scooter said. “He just moved here from out east.”

  “How do you know that?”

  He slowed to make the corner. “What happened to your promise?”

  “What promise?”

  “The one to remain quiet?”

  “I completed it,” she said. “It no longer applies.”

  His sideways glance contained a glimmer of a grin. She smiled, too. She couldn’t help it. Her heart skipped several beats, too.

  “He works for US Steel,” Scooter said.

  “Who?”

  “The man who brought us Dave’s car.”

  Bringing her mind around full circle, she asked, “How do you know him?”

  “I met him while looking for you this morning.”

  “You just met him this morning?” That seemed unbelievable.

  “Yep.”

  He was frowning now, and looking awfully thoughtful.

  “What aren’t you telling me?” she asked.

  “Nothing you need to know,” he said. “Not right now.”

  They’d arrived at the highway, and had to wait for a break in the traffic to pull out. Dac was right behind them. Skipping over Scooter’s answer for a moment, she asked, “Is it safe to take this road home? What if someone is watching for us? For Dave’s car or Dac’s truck?”

  “We’ll be fine,” he said, pulling onto the road.

  “How can you be sure?”

  “I just am,” he said. “I just am.”

  A shiver tickled her spine at the way he repeated himself. For all her questions, she knew less now than she had before. These were things she needed to know. At least that’s what her insides said. “Scooter?” she asked.

  “What?”

  “What don’t I need to know right now?”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Scooter still hadn’t answered her question and they were driving over the railroad tracks on the road to the resort. She’d asked more than once and finally had decided she could hold out as long as he could.

  He turned and drove through the parking area of the Bald Eagle Lake depot.

  “Where are you going now?” she asked.

  “Taking the bootlegger’s road into the back of the resort so no one sees us driving in with Dave’s car.”

  “Oh.”

  “Forgot that little piece, did you?” he asked smugly.

  “No, I haven’t forgotten anything.”

  “Good,” he said. “And don’t.”

  “Don’t what?”

  “Don’t forget what happened today. Don’t steal Dave’s car, or anyone else’s, and head to Duluth by yourself. Don’t even step off your father’s property until I say you can.”

  Tired of being treated like a misbehaving child, she growled under her breath before saying, “For one thing, it’s no longer my father’s property. He signed it over to us girls a few weeks ago. Plus, I can go where I want, when I want, and you can’t do anything about it.”

  He hit the brakes so hard she almost flew into the window. Would have if she hadn’t caught herself.

  “I can’t keep chasing after you, Josie,” he said. “I have a business to run. A family to feed.”

  “I know you do, and I never asked you to chase after me,” she spluttered. Her insides stung, which fueled her anger. “You took that all upon yourself. Don’t start blaming me now.”

  “I wouldn’t have had to take it upon myself if you’d been at home where you belong,” he said. “Why can’t you be more like your sisters?”

  That question stung worse than he could ever know. “More like my sisters?”

  “Yes, none of them are out trying to save the world. They are at home where they belong, running the resort.”

  “For your information, none of them are home where they belong,” she all but shouted. Tears were burning the backs of her eyes now. She never cried. Never. And she wouldn’t start now because of him. “Ginger is in Chicago. Chicago, and married to Brock. Most certainly not home and not running the resort. Twyla is living in town, married to Forrest. Again, not home and not running the resort. In two weeks, Norma Rose will be married to Ty and on her honeymoon at Niagara Falls. A thousand miles from home. So who, Scooter, does that leave at home running the resort? Let me tell you who. Me. Me, the only sister home where she belongs.” She stopped before she could say she was the one who didn’t want to be there.

  “Josie.”

  The softness of his tone did more damage than his snarky tone had before. A tear broke loose. She swiped it off her cheek.

  “I didn’t mean right now, I meant before,” he said. “When they were all home and you were the only one running around. The one I worried about making it back home before your father caught you.”

  She grasped the Chevy’s door handle. He grabbed it before she could open the door. Closing her eyes to prevent any more tears from falling, she drew a deep breath. “I’ll walk from here.”

  “No, you won’t,” he said. “You’ll stay right where you are until I park this car in front of Dave’s cabin.”

  The road was only a couple of miles long, and she could easily walk it, but knowing Scooter, he’d follow her. She let go of the door handle. “Fine.” The faster she got away from him, the better. If that meant riding the last two miles, so be it. Then, after she climbed out of this car, she’d never set eyes on him again. Ever. At least not on purpose.

  Her entire life she’d tried not to be like her sisters because she wasn’t. She was her own person. Not Norma Rose and Twyla’s little sister. Not Ginger’s older sister. Not Roger Nightingale’s daughter. Yet that was who she’d always been. Someone’s something. Someone who had never quite fit in anywhere.

  Her stomach bubbled as Scooter started driving again. Not even while passing out condoms on the docks had she been herself. She’d always had to wear a disguise. It was time for all of that to change.

  “I’m sorry, Josie,” Scooter said. “I didn’t m
ean that like it sounded. Just please don’t leave the resort. Not by yourself. If you need to go someplace, call me and I’ll take you.”

  She could have pointed out he had a business to run, or that there was nowhere she needed to go. He knew all that anyway. But that wasn’t why she chose not to talk. She was once again remembering what she’d learned long ago. Sometimes words were simply a waste. A complete waste.

  “So now I get the silent treatment,” he said.

  She turned her gaze to look out the side window, and blinked away a few more tears threatening to fall. One other thing was settling in her mind. Scooter had always acknowledged her as herself and often pointed out things that made her unique. It was all a farce. All the time he’d wished she’d been more like her sisters.

  As soon as he parked the car in front of Dave’s cabin, she grabbed the bag off the floor and opened the door. When she’d reached the back of the car, he caught her by one arm.

  “Josie, I’ll explain everything when I can, but until then, please, don’t leave the resort.”

  She kept her eyes off his face. There was too much sincerity in his tone.

  “Please?”

  “Fine,” she said, irritated by how easily he could make her break her silence. No one else could.

  “Thank you.”

  His lips touched her forehead and her knees almost buckled. She had to press her feet into the ground and hold her breath to keep from collapsing.

  “I’ll call you,” he said. “I promise.”

  When he let go of her arm, she turned and made a rather awkward, but hurried, dash for the resort, cutting through the trees rather than taking the extra time to walk to the pathway.

  She entered the side door and hurried up the back stairway. Thankfully her path remained free of distractions—she had enough internal ones—all the way to her bedroom. There she tossed her bag on the floor and dropped onto the bed.

  Not prone to moping or questioning why nothing ever turned out how she wanted it to, she didn’t stay on the bed long. It wouldn’t do any good, and the clock said she’d be expected at the dinner table soon. Grabbing a dress out of the closet, she left her room for the bathroom down the hall.