by Mary Deal
“Well, their group adds zing to their lives with the flavor of the biker set.”
As they continued through town, then out, buildings became fewer. They passed through an industrial zone backed up against the start of the wooded area that led into the foothills. The road widened. Joe strained to read a distant sign. “Here we go.” Around and up and over the clover leaf and they were on the Interstate.
After passing a truck stop and restaurant, Abi sighed, leaned back and looked out over the rolling foothills. Just as she relaxed, she bolted upright as a road sign warned not to pick up hitchhikers who may, in fact, be prison escapees. A couple of miles farther, a large sign told the direction to the Rachter Valley Prison facility. She fidgeted and looked away until they were well past the turn-off.
Nearly three hours later, they arrived at the steep switchback leading to the base of the Tono Mountain Range. The drive proved exhausting for them both. Patches of snow spiced with road dust and exhaust soot still lay frozen along the shoulders and blanketed clearings between the pines. It was already dusk by the time they pulled into a lodge area with steamy windows and glowing red neon sign that said Eats.
They arrived at the cabin on a cliff side in the Tono Valley well after dark to find the electrical power out. In the glow of candles, all else in the cabin was peaceful, familiar and smelled of redwood.
Joe had remodeled the large A-frame and she had improved the furnishings with some pieces of her own. He stopped allowing friends to use the cabin because they usually left an untidy mess that encouraged ants and other pests to take up residence.
Joe lit a kerosene lantern. “Have always needed to rework the wiring. Went bad way back before Megan stayed here.” Everything he spoke said Megan weighed heavily on his mind. “Too bad.” He shook his head. “That girl has so much talent. I had plans to help boost her career.”
Abi studied Joe's shadowed face in the dim light. “Maybe you'll still have a chance.”
Unable to wait till morning, they grabbed flashlights and the lantern and rummaged through drawers and closets looking for pages of artwork. Finding nothing, they headed into the basement.
Joe began ripping at strapping tape on a storage box, as if venting his feelings.
“You shouldn't have to open any boxes.”
“I don't know where she might have left anything.”
“Megan wouldn't have packed or hid anything if she was only staying a short while.” Abi directed her flashlight beam around the room.
“You might be right. Why don't you look over there in that old desk?” He directed a beam of light into the far corner. “I'll check between these stacks.”
Abi rummaged through partially opened drawers finding bits and scraps of chewed paper. “E-ew, disgusting. I hope you didn't have anything in here you wanted to keep.”
“Not if it's not packed. Why?”
“Rat droppings.”
“Yeah, some of these boxes have been chewed too. I thought when I finished the drywall down here it would have put an end to those rodents.”
“That's probably what happened to the wiring.” Abi yanked at another drawer that was stuck slightly open. Suddenly it came loose sending her a couple quick steps backward and almost losing her balance. Then she rummaged through more chewed and dog-eared papers. Whatever information they might have offered had long ago faded. As she steadied the flashlight for a last look before closing the drawer, she spotted a dusty art tablet lying at the bottom with loose sheets sticking out.
She pulled it out and lifted the cover and saw crude lines marked on a page. Her heart beat wildly, breaking her train of thought. “Joe!”
He peered over a stack of boxes. “What is it?”
“I've found something!”
Quickly, he came to her side. Abi spread the loose pages out on the dusty desktop. They held flashlights high to spread the beam.
“That's them!” He picked up a couple pages. “Look.” He pointed to what amounted to no more than doodling to the untrained eye. It was line art on fading loose leaf pages, which might have been made by a very young child. Others in the tablet looked as if the artist was beginning to take command of the art form. Many of the etchings had style and uniformity. Page after page contained the same drawings, over and over again from several etchings per page to one large sample of each on a couple of pages. “She must have brought these up here with her… trying to remember.” The repetition suggested the artist was trying to perfect a depiction of something. Other faded pastel drawings were exquisite renderings of what could be the canyon and other wooded areas around the cabin.
“Let's make sure we've got it all.” He flashed the light deep into the drawer and checked others.
Before leaving the basement, Joe found an old roll of strapping tape and quickly resealed some chewed corners of the cartons.
Once upstairs they spread the loose pages out on the dining table under lantern light.
“Hold both flashlights, Joe. Hold 'em high.” She began separating the line art from the pastel canyon scenes. Edges of some of the pages fell apart in her hands. Regardless to whom the art might belong, Abi respected the creator of the mysterious pieces and wanted to preserve them as intact as possible. She gingerly separated the line art into two piles. “This group has mostly straight lines.” All were basically the same concept with one line separating into two, then four with some overlapping the others.
“Yeah, like star bursts or fireworks pouring down from the sky.” The lantern light moved irregularly as he leaned in close to scrutinize the images.
“Now look at these.” Pages in the other pile contained semi-circular lines spread out and swept downward around four more straight lines. Other renditions had seven or nine lines in a row.
“What do you make of it?”
“At this point, I don't know.” She held one of each drawing at arm's length and studied them. The ones with arched lines looked to be the same theme as the V shape. “They're similar in concept, but they look like two different renditions.”
He set the lights down and took two pages from her and walked away so she could more freely examine them from a distance. “Does this help?” He closed his eyes and turned his face away from the glare of the flashlight pointed at the pages he held.
“You know? This is not a child's whimsy. The lines are formal, too calculated.” She directed the flashlight beam back to the art on the tabletop.
“That's what I told you.” He brought the pages back to the tabletop. “She said she could vaguely remember drawing something that she enjoyed, but couldn't bring it fully out of memory. She kept trying and trying.”
“Is this all? These and the ones in her portfolio?”
“That's it. But did you notice? These line drawings seem a bit more juvenile than the ones in the portfolio. Remember those?”
“Yeah, as if done by two completely different artists.” Abi bent still closer to scrutinize the drawings.
“Such a disparity. They just don't give a clue about what she was trying to depict.”
“Did she just quit? Did she just give up on trying to remember?”
“Maybe. Except for the more recent examples in the portfolio, that seems to be the end of these subjects. She teaches line art in prison. Don't know if she's done any more of these though.” Joe seemed to know a lot about this girl.
“How did you learn about her teaching?”
“I used to be her only visitor. I just didn't see how….” He thumped his fist on the table. “Circumstantial evidence. It wasn't enough.”
Abi was beginning to see a pattern. Joe left Margaret behind long ago, but he still thought about her once in a while. How could he not? More recently, he had done as much as possible for Megan Winnaker before he could do no more and still thought about her. Joe felt a degree of failure with both women and it haunted him. Somehow she needed to help him let go. “When's the last time you visited her?”
He thought for a moment. “Before you and I
met. Then she sent word out she didn't want to see anyone anymore.”
It would seem that was when she needed help the most. “What made her stop?”
“Losing an appeal, maybe. I guess things started to seem impossible. That's when she became reclusive.”
The idea that the inmate had given up only goaded Abi's interest. “We should see her, if only to rule out all possibilities.”
“You're right, and it can't happen while we're here at the cabin.”
She began tediously stacking the fragile pages. “Should we look around a little more, just in case?”
“No need. This is exactly what I remember seeing.”
She placed all the pages together in the old tablet. “Then let's get some rest.” She wondered how she could get any sleep now, when all she wanted was to visit the inmate and unravel the mystery surrounding the woman. Then they needed to deal with the circumstances surrounding June. Maybe then, life could return to some semblance of normalcy.
Sometime after having fallen asleep, Joe's cell phone rang.
Chapter 12
Joe didn't so much as twitch an eyelash. Abi looked around the room getting reoriented. Moonlight streamed in through the window, left open a crack. Crisp mountain night air and the smell of pine had infiltrated the room. Branches rustled outside the window.
Abi reached across Joe and answered the phone. Suddenly, she sat up and nudged him. “Joe… Joe. It's your friend, Britto.” Joe bolted upright in bed. Abi listened, trying to glean as much as she could from the one-sided conversation. She waited impatiently while pulling at his arm. “Tell me.”
“Yeah, her voice is sexy.” He ignored her and kept his attention to the phone. He stifled a yawn. “Yeah, yeah, that's right. That's why you've never met her.” He ran his fingers through his hair as moonlight revealed a smug expression. Then his expression turned serious. “Of course, she's trustworthy. We couldn't have lasted otherwise.” He motioned for her to be patient as he concentrated on what Det. Britto had to say. “I see. Yeah, there's more. Can you meet us at Abi's house about noon?” He didn't say goodbye, just tapped the phone to end the call.
“Can we see her?”
“According to her attorney, she's too sick to see anyone.”
“So what's our next step?”
“Britto said wait till we get together to discuss it.”
She yawned. “That would be best.”
“Strange too.” Joe ran his fingers through his hair again. “Britto kept using the word 'stuff.' Said don't talk to anyone about this, especially the 'stuff.' That meant not to mention the art on the phone either.”
“Not that we'd be talking to anyone else.”
Again, Joe seemed deep thought. “Yeah, I have a gut feeling—”
“Uh-oh.” She was quite familiar with Joe's hunches. “What is it?”
“Can't put my finger on it. Britto said it several times. 'Don't let this get out,' he kept saying.”
Abi wrapped herself in covers where she sat. “I don't think I can sleep now.”
“You've got to. We've got a big day tomorrow.” He pulled her back into the pillows. “Let me see if this helps.” He motioned for her to roll over and began running his fingertips lightly over her shoulders and back.
“At least something's happening.” In no time at all, she drifted off.
Abi woke just before dawn and reached for him. He was already awake. Their love making was quick but intense.
“Hey, you're pretty hot for a woman your age.” He looked ready to laugh.
She rose up on her elbow laughing and shoved a pillow into his face. “In case you hadn't noticed, I've just hit my prime.”
Soon, they were lying in each other's arms quietly listening to the sound of the wind through the pines and watching daylight appear. Curtains moved as the room breathed, but they couldn't linger. He jumped up and was in the shower and out by the time she realized neither the coffee maker nor the microwave would work without electricity. She poured the coffee granules back into the jar and rinsed out the thermos. Next she went to gather the sheets and threw them into a pillowcase to take home to launder. Then it was her turn to shower.
“Careful in there.” Joe yelled, too late, from the bedroom.
She screamed from the bathroom. “Oh! Cold water! How did you—”
“I closed my eyes.” His loud laughter sounded through the quiet room.
Then she heard him leave to get the Range Rover serviced before they got back on the road.
By the time he returned, she was already wearing her down jacket and standing on the back deck looking out over the ravine with its blue morning shadows. The air was the freshest she had ever breathed. They needed to spend more time at this place. Secluded at the cabin and away from all distractions during any season had always replenished their energy levels.
Megan's juvenile art made Abi feel closer to her own little girl, whom she barely knew. She held the tablet against her chest. Holding Megan's aging art pages felt like reaching back in time and touching her own sweet daughter.
Gazing far out over the shadowed blue ravine, she wondered if this might have been Megan's favorite view. Becky Ann would have also appreciated the trees waking from a deep winter sleep, the same hills and the same brilliant morning sun that she and Joe loved so much.
At intervals as they drove, Abi stared out the windshield. Though her cardiologist warned that she should no longer ski, the thought of fresh powder still excited. Now the remaining patches of snow passed like hazy blurs. Descending into the valley closer to Creighton, the blooming countryside came into view, but her reaction to them felt old, distant. All she could think about was why she felt such attachment to the pictures on her lap.
Over and over, Abi glanced at some of the line drawings. Joe watched her out of the corner of his eye as he drove. He seemed perfectly content to allow her this quiet time.
Suddenly, Abi put a hand over her mouth and broke the silence with a sob. “Becky!” She began to choke up.
“Abi?” Joe glanced at her but quickly returned his attention to the road.
The art pages shook in her hand. She tried to lift them, to call his attention to them. Suddenly she had to let go and they fell to the floor scattering over her feet. She choked out sounds and clutched the front of her shirt into a knot and pressed a fist hard into her chest, taking intentional deep breaths.
“Oh, please, no!” He stomped on the brake and the vehicle slid to a stop onto the muddy shoulder of the road. Everything loose went forward to the floor.
Abi couldn't speak. She could only motion to the area behind her seat.
Joe threw jackets and other gear aside that had fallen to the floor between the seats, finally founding her purse. He threw it onto her lap. Once opened, she fumbled through it, still breathing heavily and barely able to function because of the pain. She pointed. “Joe, my pills.”
He found the prescription bottle, opened it and dumped a few of the small white tablets into his palm so she could grab as many as she needed. She hurriedly threw a pill under her tongue. His hands shook as he poured the rest of the medication back into the bottle. He replaced the cap and squeezed the bottle inside a fist, all the while watching what was happening to her.
She laid her head back and closed her eyes. Tears ran out the corners and past her ears. A few short seconds seemed to take forever but finally, she began to calm.
He let out a long sigh and shook his head, glanced from the prescription bottle and back to her. “All these years, Abi. You never told me about taking nitro.” His comment sounded like a reprimand as he shook the bottle of pills.
“I didn't… want you to worry.”
“Abi.” He rolled his eyes. “You still don't get it. I'm here for you. Now what brought this on?”
She began to cry. “The pictures, the line drawings. I-I… Megan… she's Becky!”
“We don't know that. We need more proof.”
She managed to bring some of the pages up
from the floor. He reached down and grabbed the rest and placed them in her lap. With trembling hands, she picked a good example of a curly line drawing. “You know what this is?”
“No.”
“Cypress trees.” Her voice quivered.
“Cypresses?”
She snatched up another drawing they thought resembled fireworks falling downward. She turned it upside-down with the lines pointing upward. “Do you know what this is?”
“Not a clue.”
“A Menorah.”
He refused the pages she offered. “How do you connect these to your daughter?”
She took a deep breath. “I have some of Becky's art.”
“You what?” He twisted in the seat to better face her. “Where?”
“I've never shown anyone.”
He seemed dismayed. “What else haven't you told me?”
Now both Joe and Det. Britto would see the secreted room upstairs at her house. Joe especially was in for a surprise. Amazed that she had been able to live with the secret for so long, she hoped Joe wouldn't misjudge her for having kept quiet, for choosing not to wallow in sorrow. “There's more art you don't know about.”
“I'm all ears.”
“I can't explain it here, not without seeing all the drawings together.”
“Abi, please don't build this into something—”
“I'm right, Joe, I know I'm right.” She could feel it inside. As much as she wanted to be wrong, the feeling of being right was overwhelming. “My daughter's in prison!”
He winced and shook his head sharply. “Just stay calm.” He switched on the ignition. “You okay now?”
“Please, just go.”
Joe leaned over as far as he could and took her into his arms. “On one condition.”
“What's that?”
He waved the bottle of nitro tablets in the air then threw them into her opened purse. “On the condition that you don't keep this kind of secret from me again.” He closed his eyes and shook his head in disbelief. He had every right to be upset. Then he shifted into gear and the tires threw gravel till they finally grabbed the pavement.
