He took his time chewing. His white hair was messy, and the spectacles slid down his nose no matter how many times he’d had them adjusted. I’m worried about you, she longed to say, but what good would it do? Would he understand?
Myna walked into the kitchen. “Good morning, Pop,” she said, and kissed him on top of the head. He smiled, his cheeks meeting his eyes. She was wearing jeans with holes up and down her thighs. An oversize sweatshirt hung off her shoulder. Her hair was pulled into a sloppy ponytail, making her look pretty and much younger than her years.
For a second, Linnet envied her sister, her laid-back clothes and easygoing demeanor, the smile she’d brought to their father’s face. When was the last time he’d smiled at Linnet that way? It had been as recent as last week when she’d slipped on fresh bird dirt and landed on her butt. He’d chuckled and said, “Watch that.”
She scolded herself for being jealous. Petty. She was dressed in her typical khakis and oxford, her hair as sleek as a goose’s feather.
Myna sat at the table with a fresh cup of coffee.
“You look like you had a rough night,” Linnet said after noticing the dark circles underneath her sister’s eyes. She wondered why she’d just pointed this out when a moment ago she’d believed her to look young and pretty. Was she incapable of being kind to the one person she wanted nothing more than to be close to again?
“I didn’t get much sleep,” Myna said, turning her head, her eyes cast down. She touched the sleeve of her sweatshirt where, underneath the cotton, the birthmark stained her forearm.
Movement outside the garden window drew Linnet’s attention. It was Al. He walked across the yard to where a ladder leaned against the shed. He was early. She suspected he wanted to get a jumpstart on trimming those trees today. He turned around and stared at something in the distance. He had a strange look on his face, one she’d never seen before. She leaned over the sink, peering outside. Her father and sister talked quietly behind her. What is it, Al? What do you see?
It was Charlie. He held a folded sheet of paper in his left hand. His right hand rested on his belt near his sidearm. Al hadn’t moved. He just stood there with that odd expression on his face. Charlie was a big guy with broad shoulders, making Al look smaller than he was.
They exchanged a few words. A rabbit darted from the edge of the yard into the woods. Al motioned to the ladder. Charlie shook his head. A blue jay flew in front of the window and landed in a nearby tree. The sun was up, promising a beautiful spring day. Both men turned toward the house. They were headed in her direction. Linnet’s pulse quickened.
“Myna,” she said. “Take Pop out for a drive.”
“Now?” Myna asked.
“Right now.” Linnet walked over to Pop and slipped her arm under his elbow. “Come on,” she said, helping him up.
Myna got up. She must’ve recognized the seriousness of Linnet’s tone, the urgency of her request without having to ask for an explanation. Some things between them hadn’t changed after all. At least they still shared this.
“You two can take a nice long drive and catch up while I do some chores around here,” Linnet said. She directed Pop toward the main hall. “Take him out the front,” she said to Myna.
“I’m assuming you’re going to tell me later what’s going on?” Myna asked in a hushed voice, taking their father’s upper arm and guiding him through the hall to the living room and foyer.
“Yes, later,” she said. “Go. Go.” She hurried them along.
“You two are ushering me around like I’m an invalid,” Pop said. “I’ll go for a drive, but let me get my notes first.” He turned around.
There was a knock at the side door.
“I’ll get your notes,” Linnet said. “Where are they?”
“On the table,” he said.
She rushed back into the kitchen, recognized the silhouette of the man’s tall stature and broad shoulders through the curtains. He knocked harder this time. She snatched the notebook off the table and ran to the foyer. She pushed the notebook into Myna’s hands, and then she hurried back down the hall. Behind her she heard the front door open and close.
She paused outside the kitchen entrance and ran her hands down the front of her khakis. Then she crossed the room and pulled the door open. “Charlie,” she said. Al stood behind him.
“May we come in?” Charlie asked. He’d never asked before, always assumed he’d be welcomed. But not today. No, today was different.
She moved out of the way, and both men stepped inside.
Charlie held up the paper in his hand.
“What is it?” she asked.
“It’s a search warrant,” he said.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Myna backed out of the driveway slowly, not wanting to draw attention to the fact she was kidnapping her father and hightailing it out of there. The pavement was smooth underneath the tires, quiet. She eased onto the mountain road. She passed three police cruisers, but not one of them had given her a second glance, so accustomed to rental vehicles and tourists traveling in and around town. She noticed them, though, the entire Mountain Springs Police Department heading in the direction of the B&B.
She checked the rearview mirror, looking for Charlie, for flashing lights. There was no one behind her. She pressed down on the gas pedal.
“So where do you want to go?” she asked Pop.
He looked over his shoulder. “I think Charlie wanted to talk to me.”
“Do you want to talk to him? Do you want me to turn around?” She looked at him out of the corner of her eye, worried he might’ve remembered something about the night of the young professor’s death, and at the same time hopeful that whatever it was would clear him of suspicion.
“He thinks I know something about what happened to Professor Coyle,” he said. “But I don’t. I don’t think I do.”
“It’s okay,” she said, and patted his leg. “Would you like to get some coffee? We could go to Murphy’s if you want.”
They drove the few miles to town in silence. The streets had the same deserted look as the other day when she’d stopped at the bakery. The tires swept the fallen petals from the cherry blossoms, collecting them in pretty pink piles in the gutter. She pulled to the side of the road and parked at a meter, dropping two hours’ worth of quarters into the slot. There was activity farther down the block as the news media converged on town hall.
“Let’s get something sweet,” she said, and slipped her arm through his. “How about a slice of pie?”
The front door of the diner opened, and people starting pouring out, some young and some old, a little dirty and weathered. They picked up signs from the ground and gathered around a tall woman with streaks of gray in her long black hair. Myna recognized the group as the same picketers from the other day.
“We’ll form a line of two people, side by side. When we reach the end of the block”—the tall woman with the graying black hair pointed toward town hall—“we’ll split apart—you’ll go one way, and your partner will go the other. We’ll form a circle and surround them. And, gang, make sure you hold up those signs for the cameras.”
The group began to form a line. One of the younger men wearing heavy black eyeliner handed a pamphlet to Pop as he passed by.
“What’s this?”
“It’s the end of the world,” the young man said. “And it’s going down right now, right here.”
Pop gave him a funny look. “Rubbish,” he said, and handed the pamphlet back.
Myna gently steered him through the door and away from the crowd.
“You’ll be sorry!” the man shouted.
“Rubbish,” her father said again.
They stepped inside. A hush fell over the place. Customers turned to peer at them. The waitstaff paused, putting off orders, holding off refilling coffee cups.
The hostess asked if they’d like to sit at the counter, but before Myna could answer, she leaned in close as though they were confidantes and said, “You kn
ow, people around here are saying the birds had something to do with what happened to that professor.”
“That’s absurd!” her father hollered, startling them both.
He flipped his notebook open, continuing in the same loud voice. “The birds had nothing to do with that man’s death.” He snapped the pages, turning each one as though he were a lawyer, the birds his clients, and their entire defense written in between the white lines. “This isn’t some Hitchcock movie,” he bellowed.
“Pop.” Myna reached for the notebook. He pulled away and hugged it to his chest. “Please,” she said more gently. He acquiesced, allowing her to take it from his hands. “Could we have a booth in the back?” she asked the hostess.
The hostess appeared dumbstruck, her mouth open slightly.
“Could you show us to a booth?” Myna asked again.
“Oh, right,” she said, coming around. “This way.”
People continued staring until Myna and Pop were seated. Once the hostess walked away, Myna put the notebook on the table between them.
“What’s in this, Pop?” she asked, fearing it was nothing more than the ramblings of a once brilliant mind, afraid it held the evidence the police were searching for about the young professor’s murder.
“My theory on the geese.”
“May I see it?”
They were interrupted by a waitress. “What can I get for you?”
“Two cups of coffee,” Myna said. “And a very large slice of lemon meringue pie.”
After the waitress walked away, Myna tapped the cover of the notebook. “What’s your theory?” she asked, thinking about how he’d mentioned it to her and Jake the other day. Last night when she’d searched for information about Jake on the Internet, she’d found his mother’s obituary. And then she’d found his father’s. It hadn’t been easy seeing his face, learning his name for the first time after all these years. She hadn’t been able to sleep after that, confirming Jake was his son. How could she tell Linnet? Would she even listen? It was no longer about the two of them, their family alone. No, it was so much bigger than they’d ever imagined, this thing they’d set in motion.
Pop talked about a thunderstorm the night the birds fell from the sky. He explained how climate had been a big factor in other occurrences similar to the one Mountain Springs had experienced, and thunder in particular. He believed the turbulence in the storm had disoriented the geese, and the rain had chilled them, soaking their feathers so they hadn’t been able to maintain flight.
“They’d fall pretty quickly,” her father said. “Of course, all of this is just theory. I won’t know for sure unless I can get into the lab and run some tests. I have no idea why they won’t let me in.” He seemed genuinely perplexed.
She covered her father’s hand with her own. “I don’t know why either,” she said, but of course she knew why. And yet here he was, alert, aware of his surroundings. It was hard to reconcile this man, the one she remembered from her childhood, with the one who became addled and confused, childlike, or the one who had lashed out just moments ago when they’d walked into the place.
“I have an idea, Pop,” she said, believing she may have found a way to help him and the town out of this bird mess. “If you’re up for it.” She pulled Jake’s business card from her pocket. “How would you feel about talking to that journalist we picked up the other day on the mountain road? Do you remember him?” she asked, already punching Jake’s number on her cell phone.
* * *
Myna remained silent while the waitress refilled their coffee cups and took Jake’s order. He was having two fried eggs over easy, bacon, and hash browns. There was something boyish and sweet about him. Linnet’s accusation that Myna had been attracted to him had been all wrong. It wasn’t a physical thing, although Jake was handsome. It was more like a kinship.
“I see you’ve been doing some shopping while you’re in town,” she said. He was wearing one of the T-shirts sold in the corner shop that said I’d rather be birding.
“I was hoping to win over the doc here,” he said with a smile, and directed his next statement to Pop. “I’d like to record you if I may. That way I can go over everything again later and make sure I didn’t miss anything.”
Pop nodded, and she made it clear to Jake she’d shut him down if he asked any questions that didn’t pertain to the snow geese.
“Understood,” Jake said, and set a small recorder on top of the notebook.
“He might need his notes,” she said.
“I don’t need them. I know what I’m talking about,” Pop said.
She played with the spoon in her coffee cup.
“Dr. Jenkins,” Jake said, and began to ask him a series of questions regarding his expertise, his years as a professor at the university. And then, without prompting, Pop launched into a discussion about the history of the town and birds.
“The dam was created decades ago when a farmer flooded a cow pasture,” he said. “Several creeks serve as tributaries.” He went on to talk about the birds, how the dam had become a popular resting spot for the migrating snow geese due to the shallow water and abundant vegetation, how he and his wife, Claire, were the first to invite guests to witness the magic of the sights and sounds of the flock.
Myna perked up at the mention of her mother’s name and then slowly tuned out when her father returned to talking about the town’s history. They’d seldom discussed her mother—neither her, her father, nor Linnet. At times, Myna had found she’d wanted to talk about her, about why she hadn’t been able to leave the house sometimes for weeks on end, about how she’d slipped month after month into a state of nothingness only to be revived for a short period of time before relapsing, falling even farther into the darkness that inevitably claimed her. But she also understood some families didn’t talk about certain things, and her family was no different, the reasons as varying as the families themselves.
Besides, there were certain memories she’d prefer to forget. Like the time she’d heard Pop talking to her mother behind the bedroom door, the anger in his voice when he’d said, “You need to pull yourself together, Claire. You can’t keep locking yourself up in this room.”
She’d mumbled something inaudible.
“If you can’t do it for yourself, if you can’t do it for me, then I beg you to please, please do it for the kids.” It had been one of the few times he’d raised his voice, and the sound rumbled deep within Myna’s bones. She’d pressed her back against the wall when the door had flung open and he’d marched down the hall, fists pumping at his sides, unaware his youngest daughter had been listening.
Eventually, Jake asked Pop about his theory. Here she paid attention, making sure he spoke clearly, coherently, proving his mental sharpness was intact.
The two talked for some time. Jake was respectful and seemed genuinely interested in what Pop had to say. She was beginning to like Jake all the more, but it didn’t quell her worries. How would she ever explain it to her sister? She didn’t know if she could. She wasn’t sure she understood it herself. But maybe, just maybe, it would end up being a good thing. Maybe it would erase some of the negative publicity surrounding the birds, The Snow Goose, reestablish their father’s reputation as an expert. Maybe it would help Jake in some small way.
“I think that’s all the questions I have,” Jake said. “I really appreciate your taking the time to talk with me.”
The waitress stopped at their table, holding a pot of coffee. “Would you like more coffee?” she asked Jake, smiling more brightly than needed.
“Dr. Jenkins?” Jake asked, and pointed to his cup.
Her father waved the waitress away. “If you’ll excuse me,” he said, and stood, using the table to pull himself up. “I need to use the restroom.”
“The bathroom is that way,” Myna said, reminding him in case he’d forgotten.
“Don’t get old,” he said to Jake, and headed to the men’s room.
Once they were alone she said, “Promise
me whatever you put in your article about him will be positive. He may get confused sometimes, but he knows what he’s talking about when it comes to the birds.”
“I promise,” Jake said.
“I still want to see it before you send it to your editor or whoever you turn it in to before it’s printed.”
“Sure.” He nodded. “I said I would send it to you, and I will. I’ll send you a copy tonight. I have a deadline at midnight.”
She gave him her e-mail address, and as she did she realized she’d just come up with an alibi, if she ever needed one, as to why she’d searched his name on her laptop. She could tell anyone who might ask that he’d requested an interview with her father, and she’d wanted to check him out, make sure he was legit. Linnet would never believe it, but she’d go along with it. What other choice did her sister have?
“What are the doc’s troubles anyway?” Jake asked.
“Like he said, don’t get old. People have a way of treating you differently when you do.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
“Is this really necessary?” Linnet asked Charlie after taking the search warrant from his hand.
“I’m afraid so.” He looked just as upset about it as she was. “Where’s your dad?” he asked.
“He went for a drive with my sister. I have no idea when they’ll be back.”
He nodded as though he wasn’t sure, but he said, “It’s probably for the best.”
Al remained quiet, fidgeting with his work gloves. Outside, car doors slammed.
“That’s my men,” Charlie said. “I’ve got six of them to help so we can be in and out of here as quickly as possible.”
“Six,” she said more to herself than to him. Practically the entire Mountain Springs Police Department was in her driveway. “I don’t suppose I have a say in any of this.”
He shook his head.
“That’s what I thought.” She took a deep breath. “You might as well do what you came here to do.” Her chest tightened at the thought of the men going through her house, her family’s personal belongings. Her mind raced. Was there anything she should hide? She wasn’t guilty of anything, and yet she was.
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