Danger Deception Devotion The Firsts

by Lorhainne Eckhart

  “Thank you,” Marcie said. “If you don’t mind, I’d like to sit out back for a bit.”

  Sam and Jesse exchanged a meaningful glance. Diane extended the flat of her hand toward the sliding glass door in the kitchen leading onto the back deck. Diane, Sam, and Jesse sat around the kitchen table. A large plate-glass window looked over the massive back deck. Marcie felt the heat from Sam’s gaze when she walked out and sat in a cozy Adirondack chair. She wrapped her arms around her stomach, and only then did she allow herself to reflect over the circle of events. The sun drifted low, sprinkling vast orange and yellow light over the horizon.

  She didn’t realize how far her thoughts had drifted until she heard the mechanical purr of the truck and a vehicle pulling away.

  “Mind if I join you?” Diane didn’t wait for a response before sitting beside Marcie in a second chair. Diane was what Marcie would have called big boned, with her compact, tidy body. Once Marcie had cut past the deep protective role Diane had appointed herself with, as friend to Sam, Diane came across as an honest woman, in her early thirties, with a boyish, fit-in-with-the-guys, haircut.

  “So…” Marcie couldn’t finish. She didn’t know what to ask—what to say.

  “Sam told me how you met.” Diane studied her in a way similar to how Sam did when he was in cop mode. Except, with Diane, it was kinder.

  “Where’s Sam?”

  “He’s meeting with Agent Dexter, our boss. Jesse went with him. Listen, Marcie, we need some questions answered, and we decided it’d be best if I spoke with you.”

  Her heart sank a little more. Maybe this was Sam’s way of saying he was done with her. She couldn’t blame him, really, but it didn’t stop the ache that throbbed inside her chest. On top of that, she was exhausted by all this traveling, the attack, her memory loss. She just didn’t feel well. This left her vulnerable and nowhere near the top of her game.

  “You look kind of pale, Marcie. You feel okay?”

  “I just need some sleep, I think. What do you want to know?” She forced a smile to break the sympathy that had surfaced in Diane’s big, round, hazel eyes.

  “We need to know about the people involved, where you’re growing, inside and out, who the buyers are, all about Dan McKenzie and his connection to Lance Silver. That would be a start for now.”

  “Well, why not ask for the sun and the moon?”

  Diane frowned in reply.

  “Sorry, that wasn’t fair. I already told Sam all of this.”

  “You need to tell me, Marcie. I’m sorry, but I’ll probably keep asking the same questions over and over.”

  The air around them flickered with distrust. A lot needed to be established between them; ground rules at the very least. Marcie closed her eyes to block out the disgrace that wouldn’t go away. “Dan has two plots of land in Jefferson County. One he owns by himself not far from here. The other’s a rural zoned, commercial property right off the highway in Gardiner. He bought that one with a partner, Richard.

  “The commercial property’s been cleared to build houses. Dan has this dream of being a big-time contractor and developer. He lives in his fifth wheel on that property along with a few other RVs belonging to friends, all parked around a really old, wooden outbuilding. Inside the large shed is where Dan grew over eight hundred marijuana plants, which I babysat for him. Richard wasn’t involved in the marijuana part of it. He’s Dan’s partner in the housing development. We need to leave him out of this.”

  “Marcie, this is how it works. You’re going to tell us names and work with us. Then we’re going to investigate. We need background on everyone. Maybe you don’t realize that there’s a secret life a lot of people seem to have.” The tension thickened the air between them. Diane was a strong woman whose will and determination couldn’t be swayed.

  “Diane, the people you want are Dan and Sandra. I know Sam keeps talking about Lance Silver, but I don’t know what Lance is doing, and I have no idea about his connection to Dan, but Sandra might. All the buyers are her contacts. You have to know, too, that Sandra makes me uneasy. Her energy’s so low, and she’s dangerous. She grew up in a family of growers from outside Sequim. I’m pretty sure that’s how her dad made all his money. When Dan wanted to go big, he discussed and planned with Sandra. She hired the trimmers. There’s always this unknown thing between them, as if they’re up to something new. They’ve got their hands in other pots, literally. I just don’t know all the details, and it’s only a feeling I have here.” She patted her stomach.

  “Dan’s first property, the one he owns himself, was subdivided a few years ago and he built a bunch of illegal homes on it,” she continued. “I’m pretty sure he did it just to say ‘Screw you’ to the powers that be. Also, how many can he use as a grow-op? They’re isolated, private, and no one’s watching. Dan knows wiring better than most electricians do. Also, by stealing hydro power for all the lights; I assure you, he won’t get caught. Sandra lives in one of the illegal dwellings he’d built onto his shop. They started growing inside his shop first and then in one of the houses after he kicked out a young family he’d rented to.”

  “Are you aware that Dan McKenzie’s currently under investigation for arson along with his partner, Richard McCafferty?” Diane didn’t give her time to respond. “What do you know about the fire and the house we suspect they burned down?”

  Marcie’s face tingled when heat spiraled up her cheeks. She swallowed hard, still remembering how her dream and reality meshed together as one. She closed her eyes, then opened them to face Diane’s own intensified look. Smart lady, she already knew.

  “Yeah, um, look, Richard’s a good friend. I don’t know who started that fire.”

  “Okay, Marcie, why don’t we start with you telling me what you do know?”

  Marcie closed her eyes, wishing Sam were here. She didn’t feel well, and she had her own questions regarding the fire. She’d suspected Dan had been growing marijuana in the basement of the house. “I was asleep and woke up when someone banged on the RV’s door. Dan was gone, and I hurried outside. The house, at the front of the twelve-acre parcel, was completely consumed in flames. Dan drove his excavator, pushing the walls of the house down into the fire. Richard was in a loader and yelled at me to get back. The first fire truck pulled in, except by then, the roof and walls had collapsed. There was nothing to save. That was when I saw Sam’s dead wife, Elise, and, yes, I do see dead people sometimes.” She didn’t look at Diane. Instead, she gazed into the shadowed forest.

  She continued: “It was freaky when she laughed at me. Then she pointed her hand and finger at me, as if it were a gun, and pulled the trigger. I heard the sound and the clink of metal, but there was no gun. It was just her hand. Then she disappeared behind the RV, where the shed was.”

  “What kind of bullshit are you trying to pass off?”

  Marcie jumped when she heard Sam’s voice. Diane turned to the sliding glass door. Jesse stood off to the side behind Sam. The smirk on Jesse’s face, Marcie would swear, was one of pure amusement.

  “Sam, I didn’t know you were back. It’s not bullshit. I really saw her. And, unfortunately, I do see dead people. Sometimes I can read someone’s aura and see things that are going to happen.”

  She faced Diane and stopped cold. Every sensation in her ceased and focused in on this one moment. Time stood still as warmth brushed over her from head to toe. Over Diane’s shoulder, she was drawn into a hue of orange, an image she didn’t try to analyze. Every cell in her body lived within this one moment. She had no idea of time. It didn’t exist. Sam appeared in front of her, shaking her arm, calling her, but the sound was muffled. She blinked, and her head bobbed as if she’d woken from a dead sleep. She gazed at him, weak and confused, and then faced Diane, blinking until her focus returned.

  “You need to be careful tonight when you’re out,” Marcie said. “On the street, there’ll be a vagrant sleeping in a doorway. He’s going to have a knife. He’ll be quick and aim for your stomach.” She l
ooked past Diane and then stood up, freezing cold. Bile climbed and burned the back of her throat. She pressed her clammy hand to cover her mouth, stumbling past Sam and Jesse to the bathroom, off of the kitchen, where she threw up.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Marcie woke with a start when a shadow moved beside the bed. When she tried to sit up, Sam gently touched her shoulder.

  “Don’t get up. I didn’t mean to wake you.”

  The mattress dipped with Sam’s weight when he sat on the edge of the queen-size bed. She tried to fight the comfort his presence had brought. She wanted to touch him, except his anger and hurtful words had become a wall between them. “If you didn’t want to wake me, why’re you in here? I think you pretty much made it clear you can’t stand to be around me.” Ouch. Her words were cutting, but she didn’t care right now. She was hurt and angry and bothered by what she had seen around Diane. It had left her shaken; zapping away her energy, and was one of a few images from the trance that had stayed with her.

  “I guess I had that coming.”

  Marcie glanced at the open window. The curtains parted, fluttering from the cool night breeze. The moon’s bright silhouette exposed some depth in the way Sam watched her, and that confused her.

  “Diane called,” he said. “Something happened tonight.”

  Alarmed, her whole body tightened; and she bolted upright, turning on the bedside lamp. “Is she all right?”

  He leaned closer. “Diane was called into the Sequim detachment to consult on a case right after you went to bed. She stopped for coffee with Jeff Stillwell, Sequim’s sheriff, in downtown Port Townsend. A vagrant was sleeping in the doorway of the bank next door. They woke him to move him out of there, but the guy pulled a knife and aimed for Diane’s stomach. She stepped back, and Jeff…” Sam turned his head, clearly shaken.

  Marcie reached out and touched his forearm.

  “The homeless guy stabbed Jeff below his right kidney,” Sam said.

  Marcie touched his solid forearms now with both hands. She could see his fear.

  “You knew, but how?” he asked.

  Maybe he was ready to hear her answer: “Sam, I saw it.”

  “What do you mean, you saw it? What, are you like some psychic, who has a crystal ball, or something? I don’t understand.”

  Marcie could hear the frustration in his words. Instead of responding immediately, she took a deep breath and pictured herself connected to the earth with white light surrounding her. “I pick up on people’s feelings around me. Quite often, I have a hard time being in a room with a lot of people. It drains me, all of those conflicting emotions. Sometimes I get pulled into another time by Spirit, a trance, where there’s no time. Sometimes the image in my head from a trance doesn’t stay with me long, but Diane’s did. I don’t know why. I don’t get them often, but the after effects… I get so cold. With Diane, I saw it in her aura, playing over her shoulder like a movie scene.”

  “So you’re some kind of psychic, a witch, like Mama?” He shook his head.

  Marcie could see how he struggled with the intangible unknown. Who wouldn’t? “I don’t like titles, Sam, and to be labeled a witch is dangerous and archaic. It wasn’t that long ago you were burned at the stake if someone called you a witch. That fear still lingers. I’m spiritual, Sam. I developed my gifts through protecting and honoring Mother Earth. Everyone has the ability to tap into Spirit. It all depends on whether you allow the gift to develop. Don’t get me wrong; some people come into this world with their veils thinned, bringing magic with them. Do you understand what I’m trying to say?”

  “Maybe.”

  “Everyone’s ability’s different. I’ve learned to trust the feelings I get. If I’m confused, I’ve learned to ask for help from my guides, angels, Spirit. It’s not that I hear them speaking; I feel it, see it with all my senses. I see in the spaces between instead of seeing the physical object or person. Sometimes it’s a trick to fool me, and the trick’s to know the good from the bad; like the good, peaceful feeling deep in my tummy. My granny taught me to read tarot cards, but they’re just a tool. My mom’s convinced they’re a tool of the Devil, and so is this gift we have. As a kid, I believed her. I was so freaked out that I prayed it’d disappear.”

  “But with Diane, it didn’t play out exactly the way you said.”

  “A warning’s sometimes all you need so that it doesn’t happen. I warned her. You said she pulled back.” Marcie shrugged. Sam turned away. She suspected he was spooked. “It’s simple, Sam. She listened. Are you scared?”

  “What do you see in me, Marcie?”

  “I can’t read you right now. For some reason, you’re blocked to me; the same way I don’t always know what’s happening with me. We’re too close, or were. What are we now, Sam?”

  He didn’t respond. Instead, he got up off the bed and left.

  * * * *

  The next morning, Sam paced the large, airy kitchen, with its light oak cabinets, moss-green walls, and west-facing windows. Sam’s stomach was so twisted in knots he couldn’t sit still, so he kept busy, first making coffee, now eggs and toast.

  Jesse sat at the light oak table. He pushed back a potted aloe vera from the center and rifled through the morning paper. Sam knew he was keeping one eye on him. “If you start washing the floor, I’m leaving,” Jesse said.

  Sam froze behind the long counter.

  Jesse held up his splayed hands. “I’m just saying you’re making me nervous with all your prancing about. You should be used to all the weirdness and the psychic spirit babble. You saw enough of it around Mama.”

  The front door clicked open and then closed. Diane walked into her well-organized kitchen and stood on the other side of the counter. Sam studied Diane from where he cooked eggs over the propane burner. Marcie must have decided that now was a good time to show herself, as she appeared wearing the shorts and T-shirt Jesse had bought her in New Orleans.

  Diane stared at Marcie. “Hello.” That was all she said before disappearing down the hallway, where the walls were painted a soft green, decorated with family photos and soft white trim, to her bedroom at the end of the hall. The door clicked closed, and a few moments later, the shower popped on. The whole house felt on edge, as if a spark would erupt at any moment. Or maybe it was just Sam.

  Marcie wandered barefoot over the pale tile floor. She claimed one of two ceramic butterfly mugs perched upside down before the stainless steel coffee maker. She poured herself a black coffee and then slid open the sliding door, wandering outside into the sunshine with the packet of ancient letters from Sam’s attic.

  Jesse refilled his coffee, adding cream and sugar and then dumping the spoon into the double stainless steel sink. “Sam, let’s focus on the case. As your boss said to you last night, obviously Lance Silver’s onto you, so you need to be smart, keep your head together, and stay cool. This is your last shot to bring him down. Try something different. Focus on Dan McKenzie and his connection with Lance. Didn’t Diane say he’d been on the sheriff’s and DEA’s watch lists for some time? You guys have a big list, don’t you, of who’s growing weed and who you need to watch?”

  “We do, and Dan McKenzie’s on there, but I never figured him for the big time.” Sam pulled a file from a small stack on the counter. He flipped it open. “According to these notes, word on the street is that, at one time, he grew for himself and his friends, but he’s upped the ante. It’s rumored he’s into other things, and one of them could be trading marijuana for cocaine.”

  What bothered Sam more was what he had found out the night before from Dexter. Dan McKenzie had women running things for him. One looked after his outdoor crops. Another babysat the indoor crops in the houses he owned. He’d never put it together until now. “Jesse, in that file we got from Dexter, the notes about Dan McKenzie, isn’t there some mention of one of his women being connected?”

  Jesse snatched up all the files and carried them to the kitchen table. He sat back down and then rifled through the top
file. “You think that’s the broad Marcie’s talking about. What’s her name—Sandra? Didn’t Marcie say she grew up in a family of growers? You’d definitely know all the big-time contacts, wouldn’t you?”

  “Could be. What bothers me, though, is how this guy surrounds himself with women, not dumb women, but smart, educated women. How do you think he manages to get them to take all the risks for him?”

  Jesse licked his finger as he turned over another page. “Probably the same way a woman wraps a man around her finger and gets him to ignore all her lies and unredeemable behavior.”

  Sam tossed a checkered dishtowel at Jesse. “Are you ever going to let it go about Elise?”

  “Only when you finally wake up and stop painting her as a saint and admit she was up to no good. Face it. You saw stars and not the truth with her.”

  “Let’s focus on this case. What are the chances Dan McKenzie was supplying Lance Silver?”

  “I think that’s where we need Marcie.”

  “Yeah, but I’m worried about how deep she’s really in and whether there’s more to her role than what she told me.” Sam held up his palm when Jesse opened his mouth to speak. “Don’t even go there, Jesse. She’s not Elise.”

  Sam dished up eggs and buttered toast. He passed Jesse a plate and then carried his breakfast with Marcie’s outside to the back deck, where she sat cross legged, reading one of the letters.

  “Eggs are ready.”

  She accepted the plate with a distracted smile. “Thanks. Sam, look at this.” She handed him a dated photo of a small boy. The inscription on the back said Jemmie on Grand Terre, no date.

  He flipped it over to look at the photo and scrawled inscription on the back again. “No date, interesting kid.” He handed the photo back and sat beside Marcie in the cedar Adirondack chair. Her eyes smoldered when he looked back over. “What?”

  Marcie held up a second picture. “Sam, the boy’s picture was stuck behind this one. It says it’s a picture of the manor house on Grand Terre. In the letter, it refers to this as being new; after the US attacked Grand Terre, destroying Jean’s encampment. This is a picture of a new plantation. On the back, look at what it says: ‘Isabel, Jemmie, and Rand, Grand Terre.’ I’m positive this Isabel is Jerome’s wife, and Jemmie is Jerome’s child. I feel chilled when I look at the man beside her.”