The Rivals

by Joan Johnston

  So you stole antlers from the town square.

  Nate had a teenager’s true reverence for fast, sleek cars, and Drew was sorry there wasn’t time to stop and let the boy drive. But he could see Sarah’s Tahoe in the rearview mirror, and he didn’t think she’d appreciate him letting Nate drive his Porsche when she’d just, according to Nate, taken away the keys to the truck for “God knew how long.”

  Nate launched himself out of the Porsche with the same exuberance with which he’d entered it, talking a mile a minute as he led the way to the front door of Sarah’s house. Nate shoved it open, and Drew followed him inside.

  Sarah’s stepdaughter was sound asleep on the couch, the younger boy tucked against her, dressed in pajamas. The girl woke the moment the door opened and sat up, startled. She instantly checked on the sleeping boy and put her fingertip to her lips and whispered, “Shh. Where have you been? I’ve been worried sick!”

  “I’ve been riding in Drew’s Porsche,” Nate whispered back.

  “Where’s Mom?” the girl asked.

  “Right here,” Sarah said as she stepped inside behind Drew. “Move, Drew. You’re letting all the heat out.”

  “You should see all the dials in Drew’s Porsche, Mom,” Nate said excitedly.

  His voice was so loud it—or maybe it was the cold air—woke the younger boy.

  “Mom?” he said, scrubbing at his eyes. “Where were you? Me and Brooke were worried.”

  Sarah crossed and sat beside her son and took him in her arms. “You should be in bed.”

  “Brooke and me waited up for you and Nate. But we fell asleep.”

  Despite the fact the boy was too big to be carried, Sarah picked him up. Drew instinctively stepped forward and took the burden from her arms. At first she held on, but he said, “Where’s his bedroom?” and she turned and headed down the hall.

  Drew could hear the two older children following them. Sarah stopped them at the bedroom door and said, “I’ll put Ryan to bed. Nate, go take a shower. Brooke, go get ready for bed.”

  Drew set Ryan down on his bed and stepped back, ready to leave the room. The boy caught his hand and said, “I know you.”

  “Yeah, we met at breakfast,” Drew said.

  “What’s your name?”

  “Drew.”

  “Hi, Drew,” Ryan said. “Did you help Mom spring Nate from jail?”

  Drew laughed at the image Ryan’s words had conjured. “Your mom did that all by herself.”

  “Get under the covers, Ryan,” Sarah said, pulling the covers down and tucking her son’s legs under them. She kissed him on the forehead and said, “Sleep tight. Don’t let the bedbugs bite.”

  Drew backed out of the bedroom quickly, reminded vividly of his own childhood, where such scenes had been few and far between.

  He could hear the shower running as he headed down the hall toward the living room. When he got there, Brooke was nowhere in sight. He kept going until he reached a large kitchen that harkened back to the days when families sat around the table and ate every meal together. He stuck his hands in his back pockets and waited for Sarah to find him.

  She entered the kitchen a moment later and said, “Coffee?”

  “Sure. Thanks.”

  She scooped some grounds into a coffeemaker, added water and hit the button, then opened the cupboard to retrieve mugs.

  “Sugar? Cream?” she asked.

  “Neither.”

  She made a face. “Coffee needs something in it to kill the taste.” She retrieved cream from the fridge and a couple of packets of Sweet’N Low. In that short amount of time, the coffee had brewed, and she poured each of them a cup and carried them to the wooden trestle table.

  He joined her and they drank their coffee in silence.

  The phone rang and Sarah picked it up. She held her hand over the receiver and said, “It’s my sergeant. He promised he’d call after he talked to Niles Taylor.”

  Sarah said “Uh-huh” and frowned and nodded and said “Uh-huh” again before she hung up.

  “What did he find out?” Drew asked.

  “Taylor said he thought Lourdes was one of the local girls who get invited to the parties he hosts by the woman who plans these events for him. He said Lourdes introduced herself to him as Natalie. He just thought she was pretty and that Clay would enjoy her company.”

  “That sounds like total bullshit to me,” Drew said.

  “It might be, but how are you going to prove he’s lying?”

  “Did your sergeant talk to the woman who planned the party?”

  “She said she didn’t invite Lourdes. That she’d never laid eyes on her before.”

  “Back to square one,” Drew said in disgust.

  “What is it you wanted to say to me that couldn’t wait until tomorrow morning?” Sarah asked.

  “I don’t think Clay was supposed to wake up with that girl in his bed,” he said.

  “What makes you say that?”

  “It doesn’t make sense. Clay is worth a lot more to someone as a blackmail victim in his current position than out of politics entirely—which is what’ll happen once word of this gets out. As attorney general he can investigate, or choose not to investigate, anything he wants—organized crime, labor unions, political party fundraising, illegal business tactics. As governor—or president—he’d be even more useful as a puppet on a string. Out of politics, he’s wasted meat.”

  “You think someone took pictures of them together and forgot to get rid of the girl?” Sarah asked skeptically.

  “I think whoever took blackmail photos thought he had more time to get rid of the girl. Clay said the girl drugged his drink. But Clay never takes more than a sip of any drink. It’s how he stays sober over a long night of politicking.”

  “So he didn’t take enough of the drug to put him out for the night,” Sarah said.

  “Exactly. He woke up eight hours too soon—in time to see someone mucking around on the island with a flashlight.”

  “Should I call my sergeant?” Sarah asked. “Should we be looking for a murder suspect out there?”

  Drew grimaced. “He was gone the next time Clay looked. And if it was the murderer out there, don’t you think the arrival of all those cops with flashing lights and sirens would have made him hightail it?”

  “There’s no way for him to escape the island without going past all those cops,” Sarah pointed out. “Each of those Bear Island properties is connected only by a narrow land bridge to the actual island sitting out there in the Snake River.”

  “So he had a boat tied up on the other side,” Drew said. “That way no one sees him coming or going.”

  “Maybe this guy’s still on the river somewhere, or someone saw him on the river tonight.” Sarah called the dispatcher and told her to let the field supervisor at the crime scene know about the man who might or might not have been on the island when the murder took place.

  “I had one more thought,” Drew said after she’d finished her call.

  “Drew, I’m exhausted. I—”

  “If you accept the premise that the dead girl was supposed to be disposed of and Clay become a cooperative blackmail victim, it would be possible to use the same MO endlessly in the same location.”

  Drew saw that he had Sarah’s full attention.

  “You think this has happened on Bear Island in the past? To other political figures?”

  “It’s a possibility,” Drew said. “And raises the intriguing question of what your husband might have seen when he was there doing repairs fifteen months ago.”

  Sarah’s face held an arrested expression. “You think they’ve buried a body, or bodies, on Bear Island?” Sarah asked. “I can’t believe they’d take that kind of risk. It’s too close to home.”

  “But convenient if you’re trying to get rid of a large male.”

  “We looked on the island for Tom,” Sarah said. “He wasn’t there.”

  “You didn’t find him when you looked the first time,” Drew sai
d. “That doesn’t mean he isn’t there.”

  Sarah’s face paled. “You think Tom saw something? You think they killed him? And buried him on Bear Island?”

  “I can’t imagine any man leaving you, Sarah. Not of his own free will.”

  Sarah’s eyes glistened suddenly with tears.

  “It would be easy to miss a grave in all the undergrowth,” Drew continued. “The place is mostly tangled vines and swamp. Just wrap up the body, and when the coast is clear, walk it across to Bear Island on the land bridge, dig a hole in the dark and bury it.”

  “Who’s buried on Bear Island?” Nate said, entering the kitchen with his head bent under a towel he was using to dry his wet hair. He was barefoot and wearing a ratty green terry cloth robe. He pulled the towel free and said, “Mom?”

  Sarah stared at him like a deer caught in headlights.

  Drew tried to think of something to say that wouldn’t provoke the boy into another dangerous adventure. He settled for saying, “No one. At least, no one that we know of.”

  “Who do you think might be buried there?” Nate persisted.

  Drew heard footsteps and Brooke appeared in the kitchen doorway.

  “Daddy,” she said, her hazel eyes bleak. “Drew thinks Daddy might be buried on Bear Island.”

  “You’re shittin’ me, right?” Nate said, his gaze shifting from Brooke to his mother to Drew and back again.

  “Watch your language, Nate,” Sarah said.

  “I heard them talking,” Brooke said. “They think Daddy might have seen something bad happen to one of the missing girls, so he was murdered and buried on Bear Island.”

  “No shit!” Nate exclaimed.

  “Nate!” Sarah said as she rose to her feet. “That’s enough. You two should be in bed.”

  “But we’re not in bed,” Brooke pointed out. “We’re here and we heard what you said. There’s no taking it back, Mom. We know. So what are you going to do about it?”

  “What is it you expect me to do?” Sarah demanded.

  “Go to Bear Island,” Brooke said. “Find Daddy.”

  “Brooke,” Sarah said, her voice gentle, “it’s very unlikely that Daddy—”

  “You just don’t want to find him!” Brooke said. “You wanted him to go and you’re glad he’s gone. You don’t care that he might be—” Brooke swallowed a sob. “That he might be dead! That he might be buried in some swamp.”

  Sarah reached for her daughter, but Brooke pulled free and ran for her room. Sarah shot Drew a helpless look and headed after her, leaving him alone with a stunned Nate.

  “Do you think it’s true?” Nate asked. “Is my father buried on Bear Island?”

  “Your mom said they already looked for him there once, and didn’t find him,” Drew said.

  “But it makes sense,” Nate said, rubbing harder at his hair with the towel. “Dad did mechanical repairs and handyman stuff whenever the tow business was slow. He was there the day he disappeared. Maybe he did see something.”

  “You and Brooke stay away from that island,” Sarah said, reappearing in the kitchen doorway.

  “Are you going to take another look, Mom?” Nate asked.

  “I’m an officer of the law. I’d need probable cause and a warrant to go digging around out there. Drew’s wild guess about your father being buried there is just that—a crazy idea. So no, I’m not going on a wild-goose chase around Bear Island.”

  “But, Mom—”

  “Neither are you,” Sarah said. “Go to bed, Nate. Forget about Bear Island.”

  Once Nate was gone, Sarah sank into the chair across from Drew and said, “I’m not sure whether I want Tom to be there or not.”

  “Does that mean you’re going to take a second look?” Drew asked.

  Sarah sighed. “What I told Nate is true. I’m an officer of the law. And I don’t have probable cause.”

  “A murderer might have been out there tonight. Isn’t that probable cause?”

  Sarah looked thoughtful. “I might have probable cause, but I’ll still need a signed warrant to search.”

  “I’m not under those constraints,” Drew said. “All I need is a good excuse. Which I have.”

  “You’d be trespassing,” Sarah said.

  Drew grinned. “I don’t plan to get caught. Want to come along?”

  “Don’t tempt me.”

  “Didn’t know I’d have to. Come on, Sarah. Don’t you want to know for sure?”

  “What are the chances we could find a body that’s been there fifteen months?”

  “You have to remove vegetation to dig a grave. It was so dry last summer nothing was growing. All we have to do is search the island for a body-sized barren spot. Are you coming? Or do I go alone?”

  “I can’t go, Drew. Any evidence that Tom was murdered and buried there that I found without a warrant would be—”

  “Fruit of the poisonous tree,” Drew recited. “And inadmissible in court. All right, sweetheart. I’ll go alone.”

  “I’m not your sweetheart,” Sarah said quietly.

  Drew rose and kissed her tenderly on the forehead. “All right. We’re just strangers who had sex. Good night, stranger. I’ll let you know what I find.”

  “When are you going?” Sarah asked as she rose to follow him to the front door.

  Drew paused and turned to her. “If I go during the day, when it’s light enough to look around, I’m liable to get spotted. It’ll have to be at night.”

  “You think a flashlight won’t give you away? Or were you planning to search by moonlight.”

  Drew smiled. “I’m probably not even going to need a flashlight, with the full moon so bright. Don’t worry. I’ll manage.” He turned again to leave, but her voice stopped him.

  “Drew.”

  He turned and saw that Sarah was right behind him. “What is it, Sarah?”

  She reached out and gave him a quick hug. “Be careful.”

  Drew took her face in his hands and kissed her gently on the mouth. “You bet, sweetheart.”

  He was surprised at how hard it was to let her go. A couple of months ago he’d sworn off women for life. Here he was feeling things he’d promised he’d never let himself feel again.

  He reminded himself that Sarah had kids, and that kids were no part of his future. Which meant Sarah could be no part of his future. But that didn’t mean that they couldn’t enjoy each other right now.

  He wondered if the brief connection they’d made would survive the discovery of her husband’s body on Bear Island. He didn’t know why he was so sure it was there. Maybe he just wanted it to be there. Until Sarah knew what had happened to her husband, she wasn’t free to move on. He tried not to think why that mattered to him.

  “Get some sleep, Sarah,” he said. “This’ll all be waiting for you in the morning.” He kissed her on the mouth, tasting her warmth one last time, then let her go and stepped out into the cold.

  Once outside, Drew realized he wasn’t going to be able to sleep until he took a look at that island. The whole area was crawling with police right now, at least where the houses were located. But what if he waited a while and approached from the other side of the river?

  Drew drove away wondering how hard it would be to launch his fishing boat at this hour of the night.

  Brooke snuck into Nate and Ryan’s room without turning on the light. “Nate,” she whispered. “You asleep?”

  “I was,” Nate muttered.

  “We have to go to Bear Island,” Brooke said. “Right now.”

  “It’s dark out, Brooke, in case you haven’t noticed,” Nate said.

  “We have to go at night so we won’t be seen.”

  “Then how are we supposed to find Dad—if he’s even there?” Nate asked.

  “There’s plenty of moonlight.”

  From the other side of the room a small voice piped up, “And we can tape red plastic wrap over the front of our flashlights, so they’re like, infrared.”

  “How come you’re awake?
” Brooke demanded.

  “You woke me up talking so loud,” Ryan replied.

  “You can’t come with us,” Brooke said.

  “Then I’m going to tell Mom what you’re doing,” Ryan said.

  Brooke whirled on Nate and said, “Now see what your loud talking did?”

  “I’m not the one who had the brainy idea of going to Bear Island in the middle of the night,” Nate said.

  “So we’re really going?” Ryan said excitedly.

  “Shh!” Brooke admonished. “You’re going to wake up Mom. If you want to go, get dressed.”

  Ryan lit the flashlight he kept under his pillow to read after the lights were out, then jumped out of bed and began rummaging through his drawers for clothes.

  “Are you really going through with this cockeyed idea?” Nate said.

  “With or without you,” Brooke assured him.

  “Shit,” Nate said. “I can’t let you go by yourself. You’re liable to get lost.”

  “I’ve got a better sense of direction than you do,” she shot back. “But I need you to paddle the canoe.”

  “Paddle what canoe?” Nate said as he pulled on jeans over his long johns.

  “The one we’re going to steal,” Brooke said.

  Brooke waited for some protest from Nate. He merely continued dressing. Ryan said nothing, but his eyes went so wide they were white all around. “Are you going dressed like that?” she asked her younger brother.

  Ryan looked down at his cowboy-patterned pajamas and pulled the top off over his head without unbuttoning the buttons. He pulled the bottoms off, revealing Jockey shorts, then searched through his chest of drawers, pulling out a long john shirt and bottoms and some corduroy trousers, a long-sleeved T-shirt and a wool sweater. Brooke crossed to help, but Ryan said, “I can do it myself.”

  “How are we going to get the keys to the truck?” Nate asked.

  Brooke reached into the pocket of her jeans and pulled out a set of keys which she dangled before him. “Already taken care of that.”

  Nate grinned. “Guess we’re really going to do this.”