A Valley to Die For

by Radine Trees Nehring

  “Hmmm,” she said. “Well, it sounds like finding remains of any historic significance won’t help much, but if that’s the case, why did he steal my piece of pottery?”

  “Whose piece of pottery?” asked Henry, and she bit her lip in frustration.

  “All right, I guess it was on his land, but I’ve seen pottery of that sort before, and I like it. If it won’t be any help stopping the quarry, he probably knows that already.”

  “Oh, it might be some good. Taylor told me if the deputies or one of us do find anything significant, then construction and blasting have to be halted while any remains of archeological significance are studied and identified and proper disposition is made. All of that, of course, is what your son and the professor have suggested. It’s possible such studies might delay the quarry owner’s plans long enough that he’d want to go elsewhere.

  “I called Jason this morning and told him about what happened last night and what we’d learned. He thought we should try to locate an alternate site for the quarry, one that wouldn’t ruin a valuable natural area and probably wouldn’t involve the study of Indian remains. Then, if we do find something of significance in our valley, Stoker might be persuaded to put the quarry at the new location. Jason’s going to start looking this afternoon.”

  “Um, yes... Oh, no, FatCat, shame on you!”

  FatCat was busy batting her Kitty Bangle across the kitchen floor.

  “So that’s what I heard last night,” said Henry.

  “Oh, dear, I am sorry. Did she keep you awake? I bought her that necklace thing because the card said the little bells would help me keep tabs on where she was, but she’s one female who hates jewelry. At least she hates that. She pulls it off, and I’ve already stepped on it two or three times. She hasn’t played with it before, though.”

  Carrie grabbed the Kitty Bangle and stuck it in a drawer. “Guess it wasn’t such a good idea after all. I have a lot to learn about cats.” She leaned over to offer a chin rub to FatCat, who purred and went to wind herself around Henry’s legs.

  “Didn’t keep me awake. I heard it before I went to sleep and wondered if your mice were playing games.”

  Carrie giggled at that, and Henry looked at his watch. “We’d better go.”

  “I’ll be ready in a minute. All I have to do is put on my sweater, jacket, and hat, and I’d like to take time to call the center. I said I’d check in every day.”

  The quick phone call told her that everything was running smoothly. “Thank goodness this is our quiet time of year,” she said as she led the way to the garage.

  * * *

  Carrie’s new resolve made her determined to quit side-stepping awkward issues, so, after they were on the expressway heading south, she said, “You still haven’t said what you were really doing Sunday morning. You know what I did. Isn’t it fair for me to know what you did? Maybe, between the two of us, we have more helpful knowledge about this mess than we think we do.”

  “Yes, that’s possible,” he agreed, then was silent for so long that Carrie thought he wasn’t going to share information with her after all.

  Finally he said, “At the time, I felt I couldn’t tell you what really happened. I hope you’ll understand.

  “I had decided I’d walk toward your house, see if I could find any of the frost flowers, and be at your place in time to surprise you so we could come out together. I walked straight through the woods to the old fire road and crossed the hilltop along it before I came downhill. It’s a wonder I didn’t run right into the killer.

  “JoAnne was already on the hillside when I got there. It only took a second to realize nothing I could do would help her, so I went on to her house. That’s why you didn’t see any path coming sideways across the hillside from my house. I never walked that way.

  “And I can’t tell you the reason I searched her house. Please bear with me. It isn’t because I don’t trust you, and I know how odd it must seem, but, believe me, Carrie, it has nothing to do with you and nothing at all to do with JoAnne’s murder.

  “JoAnne and I did know each other a long time ago and she had some... important information that involved both of us. I had begged her to talk with me about it, and she finally said she would. That’s why I went to her house Saturday morning, and why I was so surprised when she was gone.

  “She had papers involving what we were going to talk about, and as soon as I saw she was dead, I wanted to find those papers. Not for myself. If others find them, then an innocent person might be hurt.

  “Am I making any sense at all? It was the dumbest thing in the world to search that house, especially without gloves on, but I wasn’t thinking clearly. I was too... bothered. Searching did no good anyway. I didn’t find the papers or any hint where they might be.”

  After another long silence, he continued. “I hate to involve you, but perhaps the papers are in her safe deposit box. Is Susan going through that with you? Maybe you could check before she... ”

  His voice cracked. “I can’t say more, I just can’t.”

  When Carrie looked at Henry and saw the grief on his face, her racing thoughts straightened and found resolve. It was time.

  “Henry, don’t worry. I have Susan’s birth certificate and the papers you signed. They’re hidden at my house.”

  The car swerved, then steadied. He pulled over to the side of the expressway, turned the motor off, shifted in his seat, and stared at her. “How... how long have you... ?”

  She told him everything then. After she had finished, they sat in silence until she said, “We still can’t tell Susan, can we?”

  “I... no. We don’t dare. Not only have we vowed not to, Susan may not know she’s adopted. I had hoped, selfishly, I admit, that JoAnne would eventually tell her, but she said she’d made very sure Susan would never know, and was also certain Susan would never have anything to do with me if I tried to make contact on my own. Can you see why I didn’t want just anyone to find those papers and hurt Susan some way? Carrie, there were times when JoAnne wasn’t easy to get along with.”

  “That may be a gentlemanly understatement,” she replied as he looked at his watch and pulled back on the expressway.

  They drove in silence for a few miles, then Henry said, “Of course, no one on Sheriff Storm’s staff knows any of this. When Taylor and I talked Monday night at Booths’, I did go along with your story that I spent lots of time at JoAnne’s house because we were lovers. Taylor and Storm seem to have easily accepted that.” His laugh was almost a snort. “I suppose some older men would find that flattering. I’m afraid I don’t. It embarrasses me.

  “And we never were... lovers, I mean. There was only the once. We were both adults, of course, in night school. I was taking a law course, she was in a psychology class, and all the other students seemed so much younger. We got to talking in the Student Union one night. She asked me about my work, said she’d like to know more for a paper for her class. I was flattered. We went to her home, both drank some, and then... it was all so stupid, so dumb!”

  Carrie studied his profile. She could see how even JoAnne might be attracted, especially when Henry was—what? Thirty-five? And now it was still the same. She couldn’t deny it, no matter how hard she tried to put the thoughts aside.

  She turned to stare out the window. Could JoAnne have thought of sex with Henry as a psychology experiment? No—no birth control! And she got caught!

  Henry was quiet for a few minutes, then asked, shyly it seemed to Carrie, “What’s Susan like? I’ve never even seen her. I’ve never seen my own daughter! I guess I could have tried to find her, could have seen her on a school yard, or leaving work, or something, but I decided it would be easier if I never knew what she was like, if I just tried to forget she existed. It didn’t work. I don’t think there’s been a day since I found out JoAnne was pregnant, went to see her, and she and her parents said I’d never see the baby, that I haven’t thought, and wondered.”

  “She’s a lot like JoAnne,” Carrie s
aid.

  In response to his frown, she rushed on, “Oh, I mean very intelligent and very determined. But Susan is a softer person. She has a tenderness that JoAnne wouldn’t have acknowledged in herself, assuming she had it. Susan has JoAnne’s sense of humor, though, and her strength. She doesn’t share her aunt’s, uh, mother’s—oh, golly, that’s too unnatural—JoAnne’s distrust of men. She is married, after all, and has a son.”

  He allowed himself a tiny smile. “Is she pretty?”

  “Nice looking. Not what I’d call pretty, but you’ll have to decide for yourself. She has JoAnne’s dark hair and olive skin, and,” she looked over at him, “your brown eyes.”

  “What’s her husband like? You’ve met him, haven’t you?”

  “Yes, and I like him too. He’s rather quiet, wears thick glasses, no taller than Susan. Looks intelligent, and I think he is. He’s some kind of accountant. I’m sure you two will get along.”

  “Have you seen her baby?”

  “Only once, and he was very tiny. In fact, I barely saw him then because he was sleeping. I really don’t know what he looks like now, he must have changed a lot. JoAnne had a photo of the three of them that was taken about three months ago. It was on the table in the living room. Did you see it when you searched the house?”

  “I saw it. It wasn’t too clear. I was tempted to take it, though.”

  “You should have. It’s missing now. I don’t think I mentioned that to you, and I didn’t bother to tell Taylor. Such a little thing. I didn’t see it when I was in the house with Taylor and Storm, and Shirley and I didn’t find it either. It’s weird, but I guess whoever tore up JoAnne’s house took the picture with them.”

  “Expensive frame?”

  “No. JoAnne got it at Wal-Mart.”

  He frowned. “Odd.”

  “Yes, I suppose so. But, we began talking about Susan, and you didn’t say where you went after you searched JoAnne’s house. I guess you didn’t go home.”

  “No. I climbed back up to the fire road behind JoAnne’s house and followed it north. You could tell someone had driven along there recently, but there would be no way to know if it was a hunter, or JoAnne’s murderer, or both. That road actually comes out by the barn on the old farm. I should have told Roger, by the way, because he didn’t act like he or Shirley knew the road is still passable. It’s open all the way down to the old farm and then goes west along the creek. When the water’s low, you could drive out of the valley right next to the creek bank. You wouldn’t have to drive past Roger and Shirley’s house at all if you didn’t mind a bit of rough travel and had four-wheel drive. By the way, I didn’t take time to go into the old barn, though if I had, I’d have found JoAnne’s truck.”

  Carrie was busy thinking, trying to remember sounds from the night before. “You know, I was pretty disoriented by then, but it’s quite possible that the man who tied me left that way. I wonder if knowing about the road really helps us, though. Other than meaning anyone who knows the way can get to the old farm unseen, it tells us no more about JoAnne’s murderer.”

  “It might. What if the person Jason saw leaving Saturday morning actually was the murderer? It means that person probably didn’t know the fire road continues along the creek and out of the valley. The quarry owner would surely know about it.”

  “Oh, yes, I see that. Wish I could recall which way the man drove off. I can’t picture it clearly enough now, but maybe it’ll come back to me later. Tell me the rest—you evidently went back to JoAnne then.”

  “Yes. It hadn’t occurred to me that you would go out before you talked with me, and my walk had taken longer than I expected. When I got back and found the radio right there by her, I felt awful. That’s something I will never forgive myself for. I could have spared you that.”

  She thought once more of Henry’s comforting hug when he came to her Sunday morning. It made her eyes wet now as she remembered it. She couldn’t seem to stop how she felt, but it was frightening to be so vulnerable. She’d cried more this week than she had since she was a child. She’d heard Susan cry over the phone. Henry shed tears. Weren’t tears always a sign of weakness? JoAnne never cried, of course, but if Henry could cry, well, then... The man certainly was confusing her.

  Aloud she said, “Yes, but maybe we’re stronger friends now because we both... found her. And I think I’d rather have seen JoAnne there than have to imagine it later. Don’t forget I went to Amos very soon after he’d been shot. It wasn’t nearly so bad with JoAnne.”

  She saw the airport sign. “Look. There’s our turn-off. Henry, tell me how you think I should explain you to Susan. I know it was logical for you to help me drive today because of that awful thing last night, but should I explain anything more? Because of Susan, I’m sure you want to be with us as much as possible, and there has to be a reason.”

  He laughed. “Simple. Just tell her I’m your ‘significant other.’ That term covers everything.”

  “Oh,” said Carrie. “Significant other. Yes. I’ll tell her that.”

  There was one more thing. She asked it. “Did Irena know—about JoAnne or the baby, I mean?”

  “No,” he said, “she never knew. I couldn’t have told her, and not just to protect Susan, or because of JoAnne’s parents, or the papers I signed. How could Irena ever understand, or forgive me? And... I was ashamed.”

  “Not anymore, Henry,” she said. “Let it go now. I’m not saying I don’t think what you and JoAnne did was wrong, but I also see how much you both suffered because of it. It’s been over thirty years now. You’re about to meet your daughter, and she’s innocent. You can’t continue with anything that would punish her, so doesn’t that mean it’s time to stop punishing yourself?”

  She paused to catch her breath, then plunged on. “Remember last night you thanked God when you found me alive? God is love, the Bible says, and love forgives. Accept that now, before you meet Susan, and go forward.”

  She stopped, wondering if she’d said too much, and how he would take it. Then she looked out the window. “Oops, I believe we park to the right. And that’s our door. We go in there.”

  “Not a minute too soon,” said Henry. “We’ll have to hurry to meet the plane. And,” he continued, speaking so softly and with such a sense of awe that she almost thought she imagined hearing him, “my daughter and my grandson.”

  Before they got out of the car, she noticed that he took time to wipe his eyes.

  Chapter XVII

  As Carrie watched Susan get off the plane, she realized that, even if Henry had come to the airport by himself, he should have known at once who Susan was.

  Not because of how Susan looked. Because of how baby Johnny looked. He was a miniature Henry. That possibility hadn’t occurred to Carrie.

  She was so sure both Susan and Henry would notice it immediately that she was unable to say anything at all.

  Johnny had Henry’s square jaw and Henry’s mouth with the upper lip that was just a bit too large. There was a miniature Henry nose. The baby, riding securely in his backpack carrier, looked over Susan’s shoulder with Henry’s wide-spaced brown eyes.

  Now what, thought Carrie.

  Now nothing, it seemed, at least not from Henry, who stood silently behind Carrie as Susan came down the stairs, her eyes searching the crowd for a face she recognized.

  Finally, Carrie was able to say, “Susan, here,” and the young woman rushed to her, bending awkwardly for a hug. Johnny, surprised by the sudden tilt forward, started to cry.

  After Susan had lifted the baby out of the carrier, speaking softly to him until his protests subsided, she looked up and blinked at Henry, her face showing the wisp of a smile, before she turned back to Carrie.

  Well, carry on, thought Carrie.

  “Susan, this is my friend, Henry King. He’s a neighbor and came with me today to help out. Henry, this is Susan Burke-Williams.”

  There was a moment’s silence before Henry said, “Ms. Burke-Williams,” and reached around Car
rie to hold out his hand.

  “Oh, for heaven’s sake,” responded Susan, “it’s Susan, and if you’re a friend of Carrie’s, I’ll call you Henry. I hate formalities!” She turned to Carrie, suddenly very formal, in spite of her words. “I have some things checked. I couldn’t manage everything and the baby too. I brought a carrier that works as a car safety seat, if we need it.”

  “Thank goodness,” said Carrie. “I didn’t remember that part. Luggage pick-up is this way.”

  Nobody’s saying anything, thought Carrie as they headed away from the passenger area. Surely they noticed, but then, what could anyone say about it?

  “My, what a surprise, Susan, but your baby looks like me.”

  “Well, yes, isn’t that odd, but I do notice that he does.”

  I suppose it’s possible Henry wouldn’t see it, she mused, but Susan must!

  After the luggage was stowed in the back of the wagon, Henry helped fasten Johnny in his safety seat next to Susan. As soon as he and Carrie were settled, he headed the station wagon toward the expressway.

  For a few minutes, no one spoke. Grief is like that, thought Carrie. You worry that whatever you say is only going to make things worse.

  Just then, Susan solved the problem by saying, “I guess they’re really sure Aunt JoAnne was murdered? That it wasn’t a hunter?”

  “I think so,” said Carrie, “but maybe Henry would be better at explaining it to you. He understands about evidence and guns. He used to be a police detective.”

  Carrie wondered if she should mention that Henry was from Kansas City, but said nothing and turned toward the back seat. “He lives across the hollow back of me. You remember Mrs. Foster? She’s gone to stay with her daughter, and he’s renting her house for now. She hasn’t decided if she wants to sell.

  “Henry’s been very helpful through all of this. You’ll understand when you hear what’s happened. But, Susan, are you sure you want us to talk about it? Some of it’s really awful.”