“Miss Pennington, during our initial sweep of the premises we entered and searched any and all vehicles parked at the inn. One such vehicle was parked out front of the inn on the circular drive.”
My car! Elizabeth did not like where this was heading.
“It turned out to be your car. Upon searching your vehicle, we located an item that placed you on our list of persons we are interested in.”
“What! I can’t imagine what you could have found. What is it? What does it have to do with? I’m sure I can explain it.” Panic was clear in her voice. Were they going to take her somewhere for questioning, lock her up? She wouldn’t be able to help her grandmother if she was behind bars. She started to feel trapped. Her breathing quickened.
“All I can tell you is that it is related to the missing girl.”
“It is?” She was incredulous. How can that be?
“So you need to stay put at the inn until we can figure this all out.”
She held her breath and struggled not to sigh out loud. She was so relieved that they weren’t detaining her or transporting her anywhere. They were obviously going to be keeping an eye on her.
Lt. Perkins let his last words hang in the air for a moment before reaching for the door handle and exiting the squad car. The door closed with a loud thud. Elizabeth jumped again. He left her sitting in the vacuum of the four door sedan. As the seconds ticked silently away, she felt anger rising up inside of her. She was getting hot under the collar. Why was this happening? They were practically accusing her of being involved with the girl’s disappearance. Her anger was turning to fury. She needed to get out of that car. She grabbed the handle and forced the heavy door open, slamming it behind her. As she stepped onto the uneven lawn in front of the inn, her right ankle, which was already weakened by her earlier spill, turned slightly so her knee gave way. She caught herself, just in time, before hitting the ground. Then she reached down and rubbed the ankle. She reminded herself to keep breathing. She headed straight for the front steps, deliberate in her stride, arms swinging alternately with each step. She ran up the steps and headed in.
Elizabeth burst into the foyer, immediately turning right toward the sitting room to rejoin Rashelle and Kurt. She stopped short of entering. The room was empty. Where had they gone? She felt herself turning her anger toward them. Where did they go without her? She told them she would be right back. She decided it was time to head to her room and splash some cold water on her face before trying to find them.
Chapter 12
With the face towel still in her hand, Elizabeth headed for the table and chairs by the window. She dropped into one of the creaky antique chairs. She was fighting exhaustion. Somehow she was becoming involved in this mess, whether she liked it or not. She decided it was best to lay low and stay under the radar while the police were nosing around. She would need to buy herself some time, though. Her grandmother was expecting to have dinner with her that evening. A quick look at her watch told her it was nearly 6:00 p.m. She would have to leave her a note to beg off that commitment. She would need to locate some paper. Looking around the room, she suddenly remembered the table she was sitting at was really an old desk that had been transformed into a table. It was topped with a circle of plywood, a tablecloth, and a circle of glass, the same size as the wood, to complete the makeshift table. She lifted the tablecloth and peeked underneath. Fortunately the drawers were situated facing her so she crawled under and began opening drawers. One by one she pulled the wooden knobs. The drawers were rather sluggish, wood dragging across wood. They all seemed to be empty. They must have been cleaned out before the desk was converted to a table. She decided to extend her arm down into each one just to be sure. It was pretty dark under the tablecloth, so it was hard to see. When her fingers explored the depths of the drawer on the bottom right side, she felt some sort of paper wedged way down in the back. Whatever it was, it would have to do. She would have had plenty of paper to use if someone hadn’t taken her portfolio with all her supplies in it. The police must have picked it up during one of their searches. She started mentally kicking herself for not remembering to ask Lt. Perkins during their chat in the squad car earlier. At least they were in good hands, she hoped. She didn’t want to think about Vera at the moment. She pulled out the paper from the back of the drawer. It turned out to be several pieces of yellowed paper that were of different sizes and were folded over. She gently unfolded them and realized she was holding very old newspaper clippings. Her eyes grew wide as she began to read the headlines.
August 5, 1984 Portland Herald
THREE SWEPT OFF ROCKS AT PENNINGTON POINT – Search Continues
August 7, 1984 Lewiston Sentinel
ROGUE WAVE CLAIMS TWO LIVES
There were a half a dozen articles, all with similar headlines and presumably similar story lines. Elizabeth wondered briefly why there seemed to be a discrepancy in the number of victims and then let it go. This was the event she had only heard people mention from time to time. It made sense that she didn’t remember it because she was only four years old in 1984. She decided to fold up the articles and put them back where she found them for safekeeping. She would sneak another look at them later.
Quietly, she closed the drawer on the old desk and adjusted the tablecloth to look like it had when she sat down. She pushed the chair back in place and headed for the door. She stopped abruptly in her tracks; she could hear water running. It sounded like it was coming from the bathroom. She turned and listened. She could have sworn she had turn off the faucet. Wouldn’t she have heard it before now if she hadn’t? She crept slowly toward the sound, holding her breath as she went. The hair on the back of her neck was standing straight up. She reached the door to the bathroom and peeked in. All she saw was the water falling from the faucet. No one else was there. Keeping most of her body safely in the doorway, she very slowly leaned in and reached for the handle, carefully turning off the water. She stood there for a moment once it was off, half expecting it to turn back on again. She backed out of the doorway of the little bathroom and just shook her head. That was strange. She knew she had done that once already. She didn’t want to consider how it got turned on again. There was no time to dwell on that. She needed to catch up with Rashelle and Kurt. She would grab paper to write a note to her grandmother from the front desk. Heading for the door to her room, at last, she put a spring in her step. She reached for the doorknob only to freeze again. There was something on the floor just in front of the door. Elizabeth stared at it. It appeared to be a folded piece of paper. She bent down and retrieved it. Slowly she unfolded the paper to reveal a hand scrawled note. It merely said:
I know where the girl is
It appeared to be written in black grease pencil. Elizabeth gasped. Someone had slipped the note under the door. But who? She refolded the note and slipped it into her pants pocket. It was time to get back in the game. Things were about to get interesting, it seemed.
____________
Elizabeth hurried down the carpeted main stairway, turning right at the bottom toward the dining room and kitchen. She nearly ran head on with Rashelle as she burst through the doorway with a tray in her hands. “Shelle! Whatcha doin’?” The tray contained two covered dishes, two glasses with ice, and a couple cans of ice tea. A basket of rolls, pats of butter on a plate, napkins and silverware rounded out the presentation. A single rose from Amelia’s garden was displayed in a tall, slender, crystal, cut-glass vase. It looked out of place, considering the circumstances.
“Tony asked me to drop this off at the Hutchins’ room. They didn’t request it, but Amelia figured they would need it. Wanna come?”
“Would I!” Elizabeth was thrilled with her fortuitous timing.
“Oh, thank you. I really didn’t want to go alone.”
Elizabeth reached over and snatched the vase from the tray with one hand and took hold of Rashelle’s upp
er arm as if to escort her to the door. Rashelle examined her friend’s face, as if searching for an explanation.
“I’ll carry this so you don’t have to worry about it falling off.” They headed off toward the back of the inn, through the back porch, to make their delivery.
The path from the inn was part brick, part stone, part dirt, and it meandered through the shady pine trees on its way to Acadia House. Elizabeth followed Rashelle’s lead since she knew where the Hutchins’ room was. Before long, they arrived at Acadia House, which was much more modest than the grand, main building of the inn. The one-story building was sided with simple, white, clapboard siding; large windows dotted the front and back in a neat row. A narrow wooden porch, painted white to match the rest of the building, ran the length of the front. The Hutchins’ room was an end unit furthest from the path, furthest from the ocean, but closest to the woods. Steps on either end of the porch led up to the building. Rashelle headed for the farthest set of steps with Elizabeth right behind her, vase in hand. When they got to the top of the steps, the door to the Hutchins’ room lay in front of them. Curtains were drawn on the windows to the left side of the door. They paused on the welcome mat. The two friends turned to look at each other. Rashelle took a breath and firmly knocked on the door. As an afterthought, Elizabeth returned the vase to the tray. Several seconds lapsed. The girls looked at each other again, both listening for movement inside the room. Elizabeth raised her fist to knock again when she heard someone fumbling with the knob. A very tired looking man quietly opened the door a few inches and peered with little emotion through the narrow opening at the duo standing outside. Elizabeth presumed this was Mr. Hutchins. He looked too worn out to have emotion. He looked numb. They couldn’t really see past him but the room looked rather dark. Rashelle was the first to speak.
“Mr. Hutchins, we thought that you and Mrs. Hutchins might be hungry…that you could use some food…you really should eat.” She was struggling to find the right words. “Anthony, our chef, prepared a couple of dishes for you. Just let us know if there is something else you would like instead.” His face lit up slightly with that idea, and then he seemed to think better of himself and became more subdued. He reached out to take the tray.
“Thank you for thinking of us. I’m sure this will be fine.” His voice was soft and his head was bowed toward the tray, not making eye contact with the girls. “We really appreciate this—everything you are doing, we really appreciate it. Thank you.” He backed into the room and closed the door quietly in their faces.
The girls exchanged glances again, not quite sure what to make of their encounter. They turned and headed back down the stairs to retrace their steps to the inn. Rashelle found her voice first. “He looked so sad.”
“Yeah.”
“Hope they find her.”
“Me, too…alive.” Elizabeth thought of the note scrunched up in her pocket but decided to keep it to herself for the time being.
Katydids were starting to chirp in the long grasses along the edge of the woods. Elizabeth breathed in a long cleansing breath of briny sea air. She never tired of how that made her feel.
In the waning daylight, their surroundings were becoming bathed in shadows. Elizabeth much preferred the inn and the extensive grounds around it in the bright sunshine when everything was sharp and clear. Yet, even in the limited light, something caught her eye as the two walked along the path next to the woods. “Shelle!” She half-whispered, half-yelled. Rashelle stopped her feet abruptly and spun around in one swift movement. “Look at this!” Elizabeth was already off the path and headed toward the edge of the woods, just a few feet away. She was pointing to a couple of branches of a low bush that were broken but still dangling. “And look at this!” She was staring at the ground next to the bush. It appeared to be soft and sandy with a couple of small, narrow footprints embedded in it.
“What do you think it means?”
“Well, I’m not sure it means anything. But this is directly across from the stairs up to the Hutchins’ room. What if Kelsey headed out their door after an argument and headed straight into the woods? This could be the lead that the troopers need to find the girl.”
“Maybe we should go in. See if we see anything.” Rashelle was far bolder than Elizabeth.
“We will just let them know what we found!” She grabbed Rashelle’s arm and headed for the inn. She was not about to head into the woods at dusk. That was not her idea of fun.
Chapter 13
The two close friends were sharing a late dinner on the back porch, what Amelia liked to refer to as the veranda. Rashelle was adept at slipping into the kitchen even at the height of activity to gather food. Tonight, all of the kitchen staff were busy with the clambake down on the beach so there was no one around to notice. She had scavenged enough food to make a full sit-down dinner for the two of them, including a lobster and a few clams for them to share. They were trying to enjoy the meal on the porch, but they were both a little distracted. It was certainly a pleasant setting. The jalousie windows were cranked out to their fullest setting, allowing the cool evening sea breeze to penetrate the screened-in porch.
Suddenly Elizabeth’s phone rang in her pocket and she jumped slightly. She cringed as she pulled it out and flipped it open, fully expecting it to be Vera. To her surprise it was an unfamiliar number with an area code of 917. Elizabeth was fairly sure that it was one of the codes for Brooklyn and then it dawned on her. Drescher. Hers eyes widened and she looked up to Rashelle.
“I’m sorry. I really should answer this.”
Rashelle shrugged to reassure her it wasn’t a problem.
She stood up and turned away from the table, pressed the “talk” button and tried to sound professional, “Hello, this is Elizabeth.” She held her breath in anticipation.
“Elizabeth. How are you?” His voice was smooth and lilting.
“Fine, Mr. Drescher. And you?”
“Elizabeth, please…Jack. Please call me Jack. We’ve known each other for too long to keep up such formalities.”
A shiver coursed through her torso. “Alright, J-Jack. If you insist.” She started to pace as she spoke.
“Of course I do. That’s much better. Thank you…so what are you up to? You mentioned you were going away for the weekend. Any place good?” He waited for her to respond.
Her mind was racing. Her boss thinks she should be back in New York City working on a project for him and, if she’s not careful, it could appear that she has cast her responsibilities and priorities aside for a mini-vacation. “I’m actually visiting my grandmother in Maine…”
“Maine. Well that’s quite a hike from the city, isn’t it?” His voice was calm and almost soothing, one that could talk anyone into almost anything.
“Yes, well I came up to give her a hand with some things. It was kind of last minute but I have also been working on your new project,” she tried to reassure him.
“Well I hope you find the time to fit in some relaxation while you’re there. You work so hard. You need to reward yourself once in a while.”
She was a bit taken back by his words. He wasn’t angry at all that she had taken some time off. She started to let down her guard.
“And I hear the lobster there is like no other. Make sure you get one of those red crustaceans before you leave.”
She smiled. “As a matter of fact, I am having one for dinner right now.”
“Nice! Where are you dining? A favorite restaurant of yours?”
She smiled again. She found herself slightly amused. “Not exactly. My grandmother runs an inn up here and a friend of mine and I are having a quiet dinner on the back porch.” Then she thought she should clarify so he wouldn’t get the wrong idea. “A girlfriend and I. There is a clambake down on the beach for the guests so the veranda was available for us to enjoy.” Suddenly she felt a little silly, like s
he was giving him unimportant details that an important man, such as himself, wouldn’t be interested in.
He feigned interest, however. “Sounds absolutely wonderful.”
There was an awkward pause while Elizabeth scrambled to think about how to turn the conversation around so it was no longer about her.
He came to her rescue. “Well, I didn’t intend to interrupt your dinner. We’ll talk again, Elizabeth. I would like to talk in more detail about my project.”
“Absolutely, Mr. Drescher...Jack. I would be happy to go over the concept of my designs with you, if you would like.” She hoped that was sufficient to keep him happy for a while.
“That sounds great, Elizabeth. I’ll call again.” His voice was uncharacteristically gentle. It crossed her mind that he probably didn’t speak to everyone in that tone.
“Good-bye.” She spoke softly, finding it hard to believe that she had just had a conversation with Jack Drescher on her cell phone, outside of work and not really about work. And all she could come up with to talk about was what she was doing on a Saturday evening, or really, what she wasn’t doing. “Wow that was lame.” She turned back to her friend.
Rashelle looked up.
“I just talked to one of the most powerful business men in the city, perhaps on the East Coast, and all I could talk about was eating dinner on the back porch…clearly I don’t have much of a life.
The Precipice Page 11
