Lilah

by Marjorie DeLuca

  Nick nodded and pushed through the front door, relieved at the rush of fresh, icy air. He shouldn’t have just let her go like that – let her slip through his fingers after coming all this way to find her. Only one thing was clear after all this. Emmie Lindahl didn’t want to talk about Silver Narrows. But what had happened eleven years ago to make her so afraid of even the mention of the name? Maybe tomorrow he could call and talk to her. Pulling up his coat collar, he stepped out and hailed a cab.

  Next day he put off calling the strip club until noon. Some foreign sounding guy answered in a pissed off voice.

  “It’s Christmas day. The place is closed.”

  “I need to speak to Emmie Lindahl?”

  “Emmie? Who the hell wants to know?”

  “A friend from home.”

  “Sure I heard that before. That little bitch just called and said she ain’t coming back ever. Just like that.”

  “Did she leave a forwarding address?”

  “What the … fuck you man.”

  The phone clicked off. The guy had hung up. One thing was clear to him. Not only did Emmie not want to talk about Silver Narrows. She had no intention of being found and had disappeared into oblivion once again.

  14

  Over supper on Boxing Day Lilah listened to Nick’s account of events in Chicago. She agreed with his conclusions about Emmie not wanting to be found, but had interesting observations about Aaron Castle.

  “Something tells me he’s not our man,” she said, sipping at her wine.

  Nick marveled again at the loveliness of her face in the candlelight and the way she tipped back her head when she swallowed the chilled wine.

  “What makes you say that? Maybe he was our guy and couldn’t live with what he’d done.”

  “I’d agree with you if there’d been just one disappearance – one lapse of judgment – one terrible mistake, but someone who could commit murder multiple times wouldn’t have a conscience,” she said, swishing the wine around before she placed the glass on the table. “Maybe Dr. Castle just knew too much and somebody else decided he couldn’t be trusted to keep quiet.”

  Nick leaned both elbows on the table. “That would explain why he left Silver Narrows. Why he didn’t want to take anything that reminded him of the place.”

  Lilah leaned back, smiling. “Exactly. Ray Gorman said this place has been vacant for at least five years. Castle hired a cleaning service to come in and keep it in top condition.”

  “But why would someone just decide to kill him after years of silence?” said Nick, reaching for the wine bottle.

  “Maybe something changed. He started talking. Somebody panicked and paid him a visit, took him for a sail and pushed him over the side.”

  “But wouldn’t the police have some record of that? If there was an inquiry after the accident.”

  “That might be something only Stephen Castle could answer,” she said, downing the last sip of wine.

  Later Lilah stroked Nick’s hair as they lay in her bed. The curtains were open and the lights Lilah had strung across the deck threw a bluish light out onto the snow and the frozen lake. But it was warm and cozy in the room. The gas fireplace shed a rosy glow onto the starched white sheets. Nick’s body molded itself to Lilah’s, and as he held her and smelled her light flowery scent, he knew he didn’t want to be anywhere else.

  He nuzzled her neck and her body trembled. “Who was the kid that answered your phone the night I got to Chicago?”

  There was a silence. Nick felt uneasy – as if she was trying to fabricate a response. Finally she answered quietly. “My cousin’s kid – he’s always playing with my phone. They came to visit Nana as well.”

  Nick propped himself up on his elbow. Her dark hair spread out like a fan around her head, her eyes gleamed like garnets in the darkness. A sudden, inexplicable sense of panic spread through him as if the fear of losing her was so great he couldn’t fully enjoy the moment. For some reason he knew she was lying and yet he chose not to say anything.

  “I shouldn’t pry,” he said, planting a kiss on her nose. “You’d tell me if it was important.”

  Wouldn’t you? Were the words that repeated themselves over and over in his head, but when she wrapped her arms around him and she flipped on top of him so that her silky body covered his, the misgivings flew away like the night time fears of childhood.

  He woke to the sound of his phone ringing. Brad Brenner was on the other end.

  “Hendricks – I got that letter if you want to drop by and take a look.”

  Nick’s head was still groggy from yesterday’s long drive and the bottle of wine he’d downed last night. “Letter? Which – oh yeah,” he stumbled.

  “That’s if you’re still wanna see it – or maybe you lost interest already,” he said, emphasizing the last part of his comment. Nick was awake enough to know he was making a dig about his short-lived relationships.

  “No - I’ll come by this morning,” he said checking out the time. It was already 9:15 and the bed was empty beside him.

  “See ya,” said Brad.

  There was no sign of Lilah in the kitchen though the coffee was brewed and a plate of cinnamon buns sat on the counter. He poured himself a cup, took a pastry and walked over towards the French doors. It was one of those glorious winter mornings. Blue sky, bright sun glancing off the sheet of brilliant white snow. Rows of black-branched trees led down to the frozen lake and a lone squirrel scampered up the tree nearest the deck. He almost missed it but he was sure a small figure was moving among the trees. It stopped for a while then started up again. He grabbed the binoculars from the bookshelves and held them to his eyes, training them on the tiny figure. It was Lilah, bundled up in a hooded parka. Each time she stopped she’d take pictures with her phone. She seemed to be scanning the nearby houses that bordered the lake. Then she stopped to text someone. A few seconds later she took a call.

  He threw on his parka and stepped out onto the deck. Immediately she turned in his direction and waved. What was wrong with taking a few pictures he thought, but couldn’t rid himself of that nagging sense of frustration that so much about her was a secret. Closed off from him. He stood for a moment sipping the coffee and enjoying the bite of the cold air until she ran towards the deck and in minutes was there, rosy faced and smiling.

  “The views are so gorgeous around here,” she said. “I’m going to frame some of them for my bathroom. I’m getting pretty sick of the doctor’s taste in art.”

  Relief washed over Nick like cold water over a burn. He grabbed her parka and pulled her to him, kissing her warm cheeks.

  Brad Brenner sat across from Nick, sipping at the latte Nick had brought him.

  “Took some doing getting this letter,” he said. “I mean I had to go through the right channels to release it and all that. Tell you the truth, though, it’s the first time I’ve seen it and I’d like you to give me your take on it.”

  The letter was encased in a plastic cover, the writing scrawled in blue pen in a sloping hand. Nick read.

  Dear Mom and Dad

  By the time you get this letter I’ll be well on the road to Chicago. I have a burning ambition to make it big in the music business and there’s no way I can do it in this miserable dive of a place. Allie says she’ll join me soon too. We love each other and we want to be together and you won’t let us if we stay in Silver Narrows. You’ll say we’re too young to know our own minds. It’s best this way. I made a lot of mistakes here. Now’s my time to put things right. I’ll contact you if I get famous.

  Tay

  Nick stopped reading and looked up at Brad.

  “So – any thoughts, Hendricks?”

  “I dunno – I mean I didn’t know the kid, but from my experience with high school kids who came to work at the paper – it’s too perfect. No punctuation or spelling mistakes. Correct sentence structure.”

  “Go on,” said Brad, his eyes boring into Nick’s.

  “Well – it looks and sounds like so
mebody else wrote it. Somebody older. There’s just something about the phrasing. It’s like someone trying to sound like a teenager but it doesn’t quite ring true.”

  Brad slapped his hands on the table and leaned back. “Exactly what I thought. The person who wrote this letter knows a hell of a lot more than we do about the disappearance of Tay Kerber and was trying to cover it up.”

  “So now what?” said Nick.

  “I’m sending it away for analysis,” said Brad. “Dad won’t like it but I’m thinking of reopening the case. In the meantime, if you find anything of interest, fill me in on it, Hendricks. You may have just opened up a nasty can of worms here.”

  On New Year’s Eve Nick walked into his office with a spring in his step. The notes for his article already filled a thick binder – and a massive digital file. If he kept things up at this rate he’d have enough for an entire book. But a story like this really needed a good conclusion – a solution to the mystery – and that seemed far, far away yet. He added the copy of Tay’s letter to the notes and started to think about his next move. He needed to talk to Cole Schuler. It wouldn’t be pleasant, but he’d have to ask him about the drug house Stephen Castle had described at the Schuler farm. Was it still operational? Was that why so many stoned kids hung around the area? He could make a start by driving over there and checking the place out. And if he ran into Schuler he’d soon shut him up when he told him what Stephen had revealed. Presumably if Schuler wanted to keep his dirty secrets from his family and his job he’d be only too happy to cooperate. Nick opened a fresh page in his notebook and wrote the name, Cole Schuler, in bold capital letters. What would he discover about this respectable teacher, now in his mid thirties?

  The Schuler farm was just off the road that led to the lake. Near where Nick and Lilah had almost run those two kids down. In the bright sunlight the area was peaceful and pretty, a far cry from the scary, menacing place it had seemed a few weeks ago. Since Cole Schuler had taken up teaching and his brother had left town a few years back, the actual farm had fallen into disrepair and now consisted of a wrecked barn and a few dilapidated storage sheds. Rusted farm equipment sat in mounds of snow, far away from the main house where Cole lived with his wife, Jennie and kids, Katie and Jay. Nick had heard the family were into a self-sustaining lifestyle and still kept a few chickens, a goat and a couple of milk cows as well as a pretty large vegetable patch.

  The area around the barn and sheds was deserted, which gave Nick a chance to do a little snooping around. He presumed the barn with its peeling red paint and bowed roof had been the venue for the raves that Stephen Castle had described. Hidden by thick clumps of trees and far from the main road, Nick could see why this would be a popular hangout for kids looking for somewhere to dance and get secretly high. He parked his car in a massive grove of fir trees and made his way towards the barn.

  Along the way he checked out the footprints in the snow. Either Schuler, his wife and kids had taken a lot of walks around the area or the barn was still being used for something. Footprints of all shapes and sizes had flattened the snow all around the area and led away in the direction of the house, the road, the lake and deeper into the forest. Nick checked to see he was alone, then tried to open the barn door. It was padlocked, though he could open it a crack to see inside the dark interior where the musty smell of decay pervaded everything.

  Thinking there must be another way inside, he walked around the outside noting the faint graffiti scrawled on the outside. Initials scratched into the wood, even crude representations of marijuana leaves or hearts with arrows pierced through them. But Nick’s heart caught in his throat when he glanced at a small heart with the message TN loves SC scratched into it. Twelve years ago, a pretty young girl had carved the message. How could she know she wouldn’t be around to see if her teenage crush ever came to anything?

  Suddenly the past seemed to slam into the present and Nick felt a stab of sadness at the presence of all those ghosts from twelve years ago. He imagined Tara and her friends running through the forest, drunk and giddy from the party at the Castle’s, stepping into the barn where red lights throbbed in time with the music. Popping tabs of Ecstasy and dancing until her legs could barely support her. Then what? Was someone watching and waiting for just the right moment when a vulnerable girl stumbled outside, high as a kite, to throw up or pass out in the snow? It was the perfect place for some sick pervert to hide and wait for the next innocent victim.

  Nick shuddered as the images flooded into his head leaving him so disoriented and dizzy he almost missed the gap in the wall where two or three boards had rotted and splintered, leaving enough space for someone to push their way in. Now he wished he’d brought a flashlight, but he remembered he had his phone and shone the light into the space before he climbed through.

  He hadn’t realized how huge the place was until he stood looking around the dusty, dark space. A ladder led up to a high balcony that spanned the entire room, and a dilapidated though makeshift stage still stood at the far end. He pictured the young Cole Schuler at the turntables next to his brother. In front of them, a crowd of kids danced themselves into a trance, shaking their fluorescent glow sticks and bracelets. But who was giving out the drugs? Cole or his brother? Or both? Or maybe someone else who was just using the barn as a convenient venue?

  Nick checked around the piles of dusty old boxes stacked up against the wall and under the filthy tarps spread across the floor. The marks in the dust indicated someone had recently swept the place, but had missed the small pile of roaches hidden behind a box close to the wall. He leaned forward to take a closer look and spotted something that made his skin crawl. Next to the roaches was a small pile of cut drinking straws, a couple of hollowed out ink pens and some balls of screwed up tinfoil. Every piece was charred and black – the unmistakable paraphernalia of crystal meth. Times had changed since the ecstasy days of the nineties and early 2000’s. Now something even more dangerous was infiltrating Silver Narrows, but who was supplying it?

  Nick snapped a few pictures of the pile, then after another quick check around the barn that revealed nothing except a few dusty beer bottles, he climbed back through the gap in the wall, relieved to be away from the musty stink inside. He was just about to straighten up and take in a deep breath of fresh air when he heard a crisp click to his right. Looking up he saw the glinting barrel of a shotgun pointed directly his way and holding it with an unflinching arm was Cole Schuler, his amiable face frozen in a glare of utter hostility.

  “I could say you were trespassing on private land and just happened to get in the way of the hunters who come here to shoot deer,” Schuler said, his eyes not moving from Nick’s.

  Nick’s insides froze but he stayed calm. “You’d have a hard time explaining why your bullets were responsible.”

  “Think you’re smart, Hendricks. Snooping around. Digging up old stories. Now you’ve crossed a line you shouldn’t have.”

  “Why’s that, Schuler? You don’t want people to know about your drug den? A respectable teacher and husband and father with a dope house in his back yard.”

  His eyes flickered away for a moment. Nick knew he’d hit a nerve. “I closed this old place ten years ago. I can’t help it if local kids break in there to toke up.”

  “You mean shoot up or smoke meth. This isn’t some teenage marijuana hangout.”

  Schuler edged back, his eyes wide with panic. “I don’t know anything about that kind of thing and you’d be well advised to keep it quiet.”

  Nick knew he had him now. “Like everyone kept quiet about your little rave scene. I’ve heard that twelve – even fifteen years ago this was quite the happening place for kids to get high. I kinda wonder how someone who ran a place like that can be trusted with the education of our children.”

  Schuler’s hands were shaking now, his breathing becoming more labored. “That was my brother, Sam. He was an asshole who didn’t care about how he made his money.”

  Nick edged forward. “
Put the fucking gun down Schuler or else I won’t believe a word you’re saying.”

  It was almost as if he needed permission to drop the gun, because his whole body seemed to deflate. He fell back against the barn wall and dropped the gun to his side.

  “Shit – I didn’t mean it, Nick. All I wanted was to make music. I got those turntables when I was twenty. Spent every waking minute on them when I wasn’t studying. Then when Sam invited me to do the music for his parties I couldn’t believe it. He’d never included me in on anything. And it was fun at first. We were all happy. Dropped a few tabs here and there, drank some beer, felt joy and peace and love for everyone. It was the greatest buzz ever. Until things changed. I tried to pretend they hadn’t but even an idiot should have known things were out of control.”

  “How so?” said Nick, leaning against the barn wall.

  Schuler picked a hole in the snow with the tip of his boot. “If I tell you what I know, will you keep me out of your story? I’ve got kids – a wife – my job.”

  “I’ll do what I can,” said Nick, eager to hear more.

  “I’ve lived with this shit for a long time now. It’s kind of a relief to tell someone. I think it was 1999 – the last year of the century – when the drugs got harder. Sammy had just been dealing in Ecstasy before, but he started getting in heroin and cocaine and then we started seeing meth. That’s when those kids disappeared.”

  “Where was he getting it from?”

  Schuler stared at the ground. “I honestly don’t know. He never told me. I kept begging him to quit dealing the stuff but he wouldn’t listen. He was a tough guy to cross. See this scar,” he pointed a finger at a milky, jagged scar that dribbled along the edge of his chin. “He laid an uppercut on me when I talked too much.”

  “But do you have any clue who might have been supplying him,” said Nick. “You must’ve seen things.”