by Mary Brady
“The tradition has been for the records to be held close and passed on when the next person in line is deemed fit to be the keeper.”
“So they didn’t burn up with the official records.” The wheels in her head began to spin wildly. “What’s in them? Can I read them?” Stop. “Sorry. Please go on.”
“Many kept the records in their homes, so when the town hall and the police station buildings burned, these records were safe. You are the first person I’ve told about them.”
“I’m honored.” By now about a million thoughts had flooded in and she wanted to voice them all so her head wouldn’t explode, but she kept her mouth shut and waited for him to continue.
“I’ve had them almost three years. They haven’t been a priority until now. I’ve scanned them, but I have not been able to give them the time they deserve. I’d appreciate if someone could look through them and find out if there is anything that any of us needs to know.”
“I’ll do it. How many are there?”
“Thirty-two boxes and because there are so many and they are of historical value I’ve called in someone to help.”
“I’m looking forward to reading them.” Who? she thought.
“Last week I had them put into a storage unit here in the police station. Building codes are much better now and I thought them valuable enough to use the town’s resources to safeguard them.”
Mia leaned back and the chair squeaked. “I thought I knew this town’s secrets.”
The intercom on the chief’s desk blinked.
“Excuse me,” he said to Mia as he picked up the handset. “Yes.”
He listened for a moment.
“Send him in, please.” The chief looked up at Mia. “Dr. MacCarey is joining us.”
A sudden thrill shot through her, making her heart beat faster and her whole body tense with anticipation at the thought of seeing Daniel MacCarey again. She measured her breaths and stood because the chief did.
Daniel appeared in the doorway every bit as good-looking as she had led herself to believe. He was dressed as he was yesterday, but the sweater was a lighter color today. His dark eyes met hers and held, stopping her breath altogether. She looked away and sidestepped to the other chair.
Somehow, she needed to get a grip.
* * *
THE SIGHT OF Mia standing beside the desk in the chief’s office sent crazy thoughts rushing through Daniel’s head, and if he had to be honest...more.
He had not slept any better last night than he had most others, but last night his reasons were different. He’d spent the time trying not to think about Mia Parker. Seeing her bright and beautiful this afternoon had him thinking he’d like to see her every day, every morning.
Those kinds of thoughts would not benefit either of them, and yet, when the chief called and asked him to come to the station to meet with Ms. Parker and him, he could not get there fast enough.
Now she was standing in front of him, her blue pea coat hanging open, and today she had a green stone hanging on a fine gold chain around her neck. The chain disappeared under her red scarf and he found himself wanting to trace its golden path with his fingertip.
“Please sit.” Chief Montcalm snapped the spell.
Before he sat, Daniel pulled the chair out at a better angle, so he could see the chief and Mia as they spoke.
“Dr. MacCarey, Ms. Parker and I have been discussing a set of files that have been maintained by law enforcement officers since the early days of Bailey’s Cove.”
“Private files? Secret records?” The idea did more to capture his interest than the morning he’d spent teaching the three best students in the anthropology program how to examine and catalogue the remains he had taken to the university. They definitely sounded better than the time he spent in the company of Heather Loch. He’d have to discuss that particular interaction with Ms. Parker.
“Secret is a term that would most likely be applied using modern standards. They are closely guarded. I’ve glanced through the files and I believe the contributors kept them private for their own reasons and for the sake of the town.”
“Did they talk about treasure?” Mia asked.
“Although I found no specific reference to treasure, some of the information, even in the modern files, could incite treasure hunting. In today’s world, widespread speculation about the presence of treasure in Bailey’s Cove could—” He paused for a moment. “I’m going to quote...‘lead to an invasion of people bent on destruction that could rip out the heart of the town.’”
Mia sat up straighter and then moved forward on her chair. “Isn’t that—um—harsh, Chief? I always thought as long as a few of us remained we could prevent complete—er—death and destruction.” Her voice held a note of distress, but her face remained a practiced calm.
“The words were quoted by the chief of police only eight years ago, and first written by a sheriff in 1869.”
“Around the time the citizens voted to change the name of the town,” Daniel said. He had at least gotten the name-change time frame from the museum.
The chief folded his hands on the desk’s green blotter. “I’m a newcomer, an outsider, but through the records I reviewed and talking to folks like Ms. Parker, I’ve been able to see some of what makes this town live and breathe. And I might add cautions of death and destruction in the log myself.”
Daniel glanced at Mia to see her eyes widen.
“Do you really think things could get that bad?” she asked.
“Even if that never happened—” Chief Montcalm paused and looked at each of them. “The town’s heart is slowly dying.”
Mia nodded.
“And you think I—we—can help?” Daniel asked.
“The best I can offer is access to the records for the two of you.”
“When can we start?” she asked.
“You can begin anytime you want.”
“Now would be good for me.” She stood, as did both men.
“Melissa will show you where the records are stored.” The chief leaned forward and placed his hands on the desk. “She does not know what they are and I’d like you to share the contents only when you deem it necessary. And please confine your time in the records room to the day shift, eight to four-thirty. It’s best to keep civilians confined to the public rooms during the off shifts.”
“We understand,” Mia said.
“Yes, of course, and thank you, Chief Montcalm.” Daniel leaned forward to shake hands with the chief.
“Thank you, Chief.” Mia took his strong handshake, as well.
The chief walked them out to the reception desk where he handed a key to Mia and instructed Melissa to show them where to find the special storage room.
Melissa gave Daniel a longer once-over than she had when he’d arrived in answer to Chief Montcalm’s summons and then she gave Mia a look that Mia reacted to by pursing her lips and shaking her head.
Daniel thought he might like the people of this town.
Florescent light fixtures lined the dingy ceiling of the basement hallway. The walls were an institutional shade of green tiles. Scuffed black and old white linoleum covered the floor.
“Thanks, Melissa,” Mia said as she inserted a key into the lock of a door labeled No Admittance and reached in to turn on the lights.
Melissa craned around Mia to see into the room and was clearly disappointed by what she saw. The twelve-by-ten-foot room had the same green walls and black-and-white tile as the hallway, though the room’s floor tiles were brighter.
One small table with two chairs sat to the right of the door. On the table were two pads of paper, a pair of sharpened pencils, a magnifying glass and two boxes of gloves, one large and one small, and a gooseneck lamp. A floor lamp stood across the room near several stacked plastic boxes. “We can
take it from here, Melissa, and thank you,” Daniel said to the lingering secretary.
Melissa’s smile drooped but she tossed her red hair and sauntered away. He got the feeling people often acquiesced to what she wanted.
“Would it bother you if we closed the door?” Daniel asked, even though being closed in a room with Mia Parker might not be the best idea.
“She’ll find a reason to come back, you know, and she’ll probably tell everyone we’re down here. Fairly soon we can expect a parade of the curious.” Mia stepped around him, looked directly at him, a challenge he thought, as she closed the door and turned the lock.
Her expression made him suspect this woman was keeping her fires banked and waiting in case she needed to run ahead of a storm, whatever storm these records could bring. The chief seemed to know her well, to trust her.
She continued to study his face, as if trying to figure him out. He let his gaze wander. The way her wavy, light brown hair fell on her shoulders, it seemed to beg to be picked up by the handful and pushed back away from her face, so her jaw, her ear, her neck could be kissed.
“How much does the chief know about me by now?” he asked to make his mind go someplace besides kissing Mia Parker.
She nodded and smiled. “You’re very quick, Dr. MacCarey. You are right to think he knows. He knows everything from public sources, private sources and a few sources you won’t even think of. Scary, huh?”
“A bit intimidating.”
“He does what he needs to do to help keep the citizens of the town safe, like having us examine these records even though they are his and his alone.” She moved over to the table and chairs. “I suspect he chose you and me because we have a stake in not blabbing what we find to anyone who will listen.”
“I promise not to blab.”
She grinned with the tip of her pink tongue between her white teeth and he wondered if she knew what that did to him.
“Mock me if you must,” she said, “but the chief knows everything. Though, he won’t share his information—unless necessary.”
“I’m reassured.”
She made him want to smile. This made it even worse that he had to tell her his boss had ordered more limitations on the site. “Before we start, I need to say something.”
“Will it make me ecstatically happy?”
“No.”
“Do I need to know it right now?”
“Also no.”
“Would you be so kind as to tell me later?”
When he nodded, she asked, “Do you have any preferences on how we do these records?”
As she spoke, she removed her coat and placed it on the back of a chair. The dark blue, long-sleeved T-shirt she wore clung to her thin shoulders and small waist, and her jeans snugged against her hips. The gold chain lay against her neck and he had to force himself not to step forward and touch her where it lay.
Now he wondered if he needed to open the door no matter who might come snooping. No, all he had to do was remember the past or fear the future. “Sort them in chronological order as we go is the way I’d do them.”
She rubbed her hands together. “Let’s do it.”
The passion inside her glittered in her eyes. Her cheeks flushed, amplifying her clean, fresh beauty. He considered whether or not he could inspire her other passions, as well.
He cleared his throat. Clearing his head might well be hopeless, but he sure as hell needed to try. “You’d make a good anthropologist.”
“I’ll keep that in mind if being a restaurateur fails me.”
She stopped and put a hand on his arm as she locked her blue eyes to his. “Are we ready for this?”
“Are you?” He scooped up her hand and somehow found the strength not to kiss each fingertip.
“Well, you know. I told the chief I’d do this. If you want to go up and tell him you wimped out...” She shrugged and stepped away. “Please do.”
“You’re still trying to get rid of me.”
“Yes, though I’m starting to think you might not be so bad.” Her mouth curved as she put gloves on and picked up a box of files from one of the stacks. “Which means I need to try harder to get rid of you.”
“Anthropologists are difficult to get rid of.”
“And thorough, Chief Montcalm said.” She puffed out a quick breath and sat down on the tile floor, scooting the box between her legs. “What I should want is to burn these, all of them, in case they destroy the Roost’s chances, but I can’t think of them as anything but a colossal prize for the town.”
Her hair tumbled down into her face as she peered into the box and took out a file. When she opened the folder he wanted to move her hair out of the way so he could see her face. More than reading files, more than an anthropological find, he wanted to put his hands in that hair.
His colleagues at the university could be right. He might need a keeper, but not for the reasons they all thought.
She moved closer to the lamp and he grabbed a box of his own.
After they had been working for a while, Daniel opened his third box and found files from 1917 through 1920 written by a Chief Francis Reagan. The man seemed rather pleased to have seen the rest of the country finally come to its senses and pass prohibition laws because the State of Maine had been a leader in that social battle.
Getting lost in some of the files was irresistible and was going to make getting through them take a lot longer than it should. Mia didn’t seem to mind and neither did he. Though sometimes he found himself absorbed in watching her read files, like now.
She glanced up and smiled at him and it went right to his gut and places lower. “Nineteen twenties?” he asked indicating the box he had.
“Over here.” She pointed to a row near the table and when he got up, came over and slid a box in the line of ascension ahead of his. “You know, a museum might find these files very interesting.”
When she looked at him with big blue innocence, he chuffed instead of answering.
“You didn’t find our museum interesting?” Mischief played on her face.
“You could have warned me.”
“Ah-yuh, I could have, but what would have been the point? After all I’ve said about you getting in and getting out of town quickly, you’d have thought I was trying to hide something from you.”
“I would—”
“—have.” She grinned a dare at him.
“I would have doubted you.”
They studied each other with the smiles stuck on their faces. He realized he didn’t just like her smiles, he liked being the reason she smiled.
“So I saved you some time by letting you get the visit out of the way.” She sauntered over to him and emphasized her point by pressing the tip of her finger into his shoulder. Her eyes never left his. “We could have argued first and then you would have gone anyway.”
“All the same.” He retaliated with a shoulder prod of his own, a place he thought would be safe, but he was wrong. The attraction he had tried to squelch erupted and he had to step away. He grabbed a box and retreated.
“Wouldn’t you say Heather Loch and her museum need to be experienced at least once?” she asked as she casually bent over and retrieved another box.
“She’s certainly one of a kind.”
Heather Loch had demanded to know why he hadn’t delved more deeply into his own past, extolling the virtues of research and asking tough, frank questions. He hadn’t given her a reason.
“To be fair, if Heather’d just leave a person alone to browse, there are some facts in the museum,” she said, her head bent over the box of files. He wondered if she was being more deliberate than her casual manner indicated and forced himself not to watch.
“And the building is well kept,” he said. “That says something good about Bailey’s Cove th
at the church wasn’t torn down long before Ms. Loch took it over.”
“See you have been learning about our fine town. We are rooted deeply in history here.” She spoke the words lovingly. Her dedication to Bailey’s Cove made her even more attractive.
“She didn’t tell me anything about her being related to Liam Bailey, which surprised me.”
Mia looked at him and raised her eyebrows. “She doesn’t trust you yet.”
“I’m a good guy, really I am.”
“I’m sure that’s what pirates say about themselves, too.” She challenged him as she spoke and he wanted to cross the space between them and kiss her parted lips.
Work, he reminded himself. He delved into his own box, but couldn’t help but wonder how much more there was to know. “Why did they change the name of the town from South Harbor to Bailey’s Cove when they did?”
“It’s never been clear exactly why the name was changed. But I was thinking, wouldn’t it be the biggest joke—” she held the file aloft her hair falling away from her face “—if they tore the town apart and the treasure of Bailey’s Cove turned out to be thirty-two boxes of paper?”
Her expression suddenly got more thoughtful, sad, and she looked away because either she wanted to retrieve another file or to keep him from seeing her face, he wasn’t really sure.
CHAPTER EIGHT
DANIEL LOWERED HIMSELF to the floor next to Mia, facing her. “Mia, what we’re doing here could ruin things for you.”
She moved closer to him, close enough for her body heat to seep into his and she tried to smile. Her sadness shined through, a beacon of dread. “I just need to get the restaurant launched in time.”
He could see in her eyes she was not playing him. This was more than a business enterprise to her.
“I get that it’s important.” He pushed her hair behind her ear so he could see her face. The softness of her skin beneath his fingertip sent a demand through him. He wanted her, wrong as it was.
“The town’s historical significance is dying a slow death. We’re losing the folks who know the lore, the heart of South Harbor, of Bailey’s Cove.” She looked at him with too much trust. “I’d like to think finding a pirate’s treasure would sustain the town, but it’s easy to see in this world, it would be a flash flood leaving destruction in its wake and no genuine future for us. I wouldn’t want the entirety of Bailey’s Cove to be reduced to a hokey tourist attraction.”
