by Winnie Reed
“I see,” I whispered to myself. “Is that what happened? Were you in love with her?” I wished I knew when the relationship between the brothers had fallen apart. It seemed like their business interests continued to flourish and there weren’t any articles or bits of gossip in the town paper relating to fights or anything like that.
It wasn’t until the mid-sixties that the cracks had begun to show. Winnie was already gone. George bought Matthew out of one mill after another. Even the journalists of the time wondered why Matthew Patterson was pulling out of these businesses, since they flourished.
Then, he disappeared. That was it.
Did he run away with all that money and start a new life? Was he planning this disappearance for all those years? Maybe Winifred’s death had broken him, reset his priorities.
But that wouldn’t explain why he left his son behind. No matter how many times I turned that little tidbit over in my mind, it still made no sense.
There he was, in one of the last articles. George was mentioned as Matthew’s brother and business partner, which was why the article came up under his name as well as Matthew’s. There were tons of photos included: the wedding picture, though cropped tighter so only the happy couple was visible. Matthew with baby Kevin. Matthew with George, the two of them looking enough alike that they could be mistaken for twins—young, vibrant, kings of the world.
And one of Kevin being bundled off the boat, a blanket around his small body. That poor, scared kid. What must he have suffered?
Or did he suffer? Had his father left him only when he knew the boat would be found?
I had more questions than answers by the time I finished, only a few minutes short of closing time. How was I supposed to get any sleep with all these questions floating around, unanswered? Maybe I could find more information online, at the hotel.
On the way down the library stairs, I called Nate and hoped he wouldn’t mind that Raina had given me his number in case there was trouble. This didn’t exactly constitute trouble, but it was worth asking about.
“It’s Emma Harmon. I’m sorry to bother you.” Of course, it only occurred to me after I’d placed the call and he’d answered that it was Friday night and he might have plans. I cringed, waiting for his response.
“Emma! It’s no bother. Is everything all right?”
“I’m not interrupting anything, am I?”
“Not at all. I was ready to settle in with a book.”
“How is everything at the farm?” I asked, cringing again. I knew how things were at the farm, since I was just there with Joe the night before. The word MURDERER flashed before my memory.
“We had another bout of vandalism overnight,” he replied in a tight voice. “But otherwise, the work is going well. I stayed a little longer than the men did today. Trying to catch up, you know.”
“Understandable. I have to admit, and I hope you don’t mind, but I was doing a little research at the library right now. Your family was the subject.”
“Oh? Unfortunate for you.”
I laughed. “No, it was interesting. I got the impression from some of the photos I found that your Uncle George was involved with your Aunt Winnie at some point before she was engaged to Matthew. They just happened to be together at a few events, but it caught my eye. Did you ever hear anything about that?”
“Hmm. Nothing specific, but you know what?” Excitement throbbed in his voice now. “There was something. I heard it a few times when I was a kid. Something about him being disappointed. His disappointment. Like it was this big, terrible thing. But a secret. Maybe because I was so young they didn’t want to talk about it in front of me. I assumed that whatever it was, that was why he never married.”
“Huh. Interesting, isn’t it?”
“Very,” he agreed. “And sad, too, if it was Matthew’s fault.”
“They were already deep in business together by the time Matthew and Winnie were engaged,” I mused, standing by my car in front of the darkened library. The sidewalk was virtually empty, with everybody either in town or miles away on the boardwalk. I envied them.
Though truth be told, nothing excited me more than a mystery. Not even sweets, which was saying something.
“They were, from the time George was out of college and starting work,” Nate confirmed.
“Do you think she might’ve had something to do with their falling out?”
“I couldn’t say. I could call my dad and ask if he knows anything, but they’re in London and it’s already well past midnight.”
“No, no, no. Don’t do that. Honestly, in the end, I don’t know what difference it makes.” I leaned against my pink Bug with a sigh. “Matthew’s long gone, no matter how it happened.”
“It would be nice to know what happened, though,” he allowed. “And to give him a proper burial.”
“Of course. Sorry. I’m not trying to be blasé.”
“You? I would never accuse you of that. You’ve gone well above and beyond. Thank you for caring. It really does mean a lot.”
“It’s nothing. Well, I guess I’ll continue my research from home, since I’ll be driving back tomorrow morning. You can tell me if your dad has anything to add?”
“You’ll be the first to know.”
On second thought… “Maybe Raina should be the first to know,” I suggested. “She’s already annoyed with me for coming back without her. I don’t want her to think I’m nudging her out of the way.”
“You’re a good friend.”
I didn’t know what to say to that, so I deflected as I normally did when I was embarrassed. “Quick afterthought. What happened to the things that were taken from the attic? Besides that one trunk, I mean. Maybe there’s something George left behind?”
“Good thinking. All of that is in the basement now. I didn’t want to bring it home, since a lot of it is musty and fragile, but I should go through it.”
“Like you don’t have enough to do. Maybe Raina could help you. She’s chomping at the bit to be more helpful.”
“I’m starting to think you want the two of us to spend time together.”
“What would give you that idea?” I laughed before ending the call. The fact that I sounded like my mom wasn’t lost on me. Wasn’t I a little too young to start taking after her?
I slid the key into the lock on the driver’s side door, still chuckling at myself and how glad I was that nobody I knew heard me sounding just like Cape Hope’s most incurable matchmaker when I felt a presence drawing near.
I felt it before I heard the footsteps.
“I told you to mind your business.” I heard his voice a split second before a pressure made itself known against my lower back. “Unlock the door, then slide across into the passenger seat and you won’t get hurt.”
I didn’t have to turn around to know who stood behind me with what could very well have been a gun pressed against my back.
“What do you plan on doing?” I breathed, staring over the roof of the car at the dark street beyond. There was nobody out and about. I was alone with Kevin Patterson.
And his gun.
“You’ll see when we get there,” he grunted. “Do as I say.” The pressure in my back got stronger as he pressed the gun harder. “Don’t think I won’t shoot. I’ve done desperate things before.”
I didn’t want to be his next desperate act, so I unlocked the door and slid behind the wheel and beyond, just like he asked.
Even though I was almost sure I was making a terrible mistake.
Chapter Twenty-Four
“What are we doing here?” I asked as he turned into the driveway to the farmhouse.
The entire way to the farm, my dad’s voice had rung out in my head. Don’t ever let somebody take you to a second location. I knew it well, didn’t I?
But when a person was in that situation and they finally understood what it meant to be a deer in headlights, it was easy to forget things in favor of getting through whatever was happening.
If I
needed to overpower this man, I could. No problem. Now that the shock had worn off and I wasn’t quite so scared, I could fight.
Couldn’t I?
“Always asking questions.” Kevin snickered. “I heard you were at the library and thought I would come down to see what you were so interested in. Imagine how surprised I was when you came out and told me what I wanted to know without my having to ask.”
“Who the heck told you I was at the library?” I asked, forgetting my situation for a second.
“I have friends everywhere.”
“Friends?” Maybe I shouldn’t have snickered. “Gossips, you mean? I know all about that.”
“You don’t know the first thing,” he muttered. “Don’t pretend you know what it’s like.”
“What what’s like?” Maybe if I stalled and got him talking for a while, he’d forget what he had in mind.
“Everybody knowing your business. Everybody talking about you, whispering, looking at you when all you’re trying to do is walk down the street and go about your life. At least when I was working in New York, I could avoid it. But here?”
“Why did you come back, then? Why not go someplace else and start life on your own terms?” I caught his eye, and he was quick to look away.
“When your roots run deep…” He left it there, and I thought I understood. I wouldn’t have left Cape Hope for long. Hadn’t I come back after college even though I’d been so sure I never would?
Saying it and doing it were two different things. Just like telling a person not to allow their attacker to take them to a second location and them actually listening to that advice in the heat of the moment were two different things.
He pulled up next to the house, not far from where the workmen were repairing the system for watering the trees. Raina had been right about that. There was tubing everywhere, waiting to be placed in the trench which now ran around three sides of the orchard.
“Get out.” He didn’t leave much room for argument, waiting for me to climb out before he followed suit. He kept the keys, making sure I couldn’t drive away, I guessed. So I wouldn’t be able to escape that easily.
Just how would I manage it, then? There was no way of telling.
The air was muggy, leaving my skin damp. Not like I wouldn’t have been sweating anyway, with Kevin pointing a…
“You don’t have a gun?” I shouted when I noticed his empty hands. There was no telltale bulge in his pants pockets, either. “Are you kidding me?”
He shrugged, holding up his thumb and forefinger in a gun shape. I wanted to smack myself for being that naïve. I had never actually seen a gun, but I’d been quick to assume there was one just because he’d pressed his finger into my back.
“Oldest trick in the book.” He chuckled like I needed to feel any worse.
“Great. At least I know there’s nothing you can do to me.”
“I wouldn’t go that far.” He bent and picked up a shovel. I had to go and say something, didn’t I? Meanwhile, all I had around me was a few rakes.
“Why are we here? What was the purpose of this?” I looked around. “What are we doing?”
“You wanted to know about my family, didn’t you? I thought this was the best place to tell you all about them. After all, my father rested here all these years.”
I blinked. Was he serious? “You seem to be taking the news well,” I murmured.
“It isn’t news to me. I’ve known about it for a long time.”
“You have?”
He nodded, his brows drawn together in a single line under the brim of his cap. “Of course. I knew he was here all this time. I was here when my uncle buried him.”
Holy mackerel. If my knees hadn’t already been weak with uncertainty and knowing this man could do anything at any time, they would’ve turned to jelly just from knowing he’d watched his father’s burial.
“You were here? You knew he was dead?”
“Isn’t that what I just said?” Nothing about his tone of voice revealed anything about how he felt about this. He could’ve been talking about the weather. “I was here.”
“And you knew the workers would find the body if you didn’t get it out of here first.”
“On the nose.” He even touched his nose for good measure.
There was a light breeze, enough to cool the sweat on my neck and chest and make me shiver. “So you moved it someplace where you didn’t think it would be found. Right?”
“Yes.” He took a step toward me.
I stepped back, aware of how close I was to the trench.
“How was I supposed to know the trunk would break? I had to sit there and pretend to be surprised that it was my father they found. Maybe I missed my calling. I should’ve gone into the theatre.”
“Yeah, sure.”
“You should know what it’s like to pretend not to know the details behind something you’re darn well aware of.” He snickered. “That little scene you pulled at the brewery. You knew all along.”
“What about it?” I challenged. Now that the fear and confusion had passed, I was good and angry. “I was trying to help Nate, when all you could do was spread misinformation to stir trouble. I felt sorry for you at first, you know. When I found out the circumstances behind your father’s death, I pitied you. But now? I feel like I wasted my time.”
That knocked him off-balance for a second. His eyelids fluttered, his mouth opening and closing.
“How did they do it?” I asked, because why not strike while the iron was hot?
“Do what?”
“How did they fake your father’s death on the boat?”
“He was never on the boat.”
“But witnesses saw…” I stopped, realizing what I was saying and remembering how much George and Matthew looked alike. Why didn’t I see it before? “He was already dead when you got on the boat. George pretended to be Matthew.”
“A hat pulled low over his eyes and he was fine. Nobody thought twice.”
“You were just a little boy.”
“And?”
“And? Are you serious? And your father died and you had to pretend he went overboard when you knew he was gone already. That must’ve been difficult.”
“Not so difficult. I wasn’t sorry to see him go.” He snorted, shaking his head. “He made my mother miserable. He made me miserable.”
“How do you know he made her miserable when you were such a little boy when she died?”
“Children understand things. Have you ever noticed that?” He took another step, then another. “She cried. All the time. They fought every day, right out in front of me. She’d beg him not to shout and throw things when I was in the room, but that would make it worse. She was only happy when he wasn’t home.”
“And he stole her from your uncle, didn’t he?”
A smile started to form. “You did your research, after all. That’s what George told me. Raising Winnie’s son, pretending I was theirs and not my father’s. But that wasn’t enough, since I became like my father as I grew older. Not a drunken, abusive wreck, but in other ways. Mannerisms, expressions. He became sour. He grew to hate me.”
Kevin looked away for a moment, toward the patch of land where his father had rested for so long. “It doesn’t matter now. He’s dead, and he couldn’t see fit to leave me the house along with the land.”
“The land which he had to leave you to keep the secret safe,” I guessed.
“He wouldn’t have left me anything otherwise,” Kevin admitted. “We would argue and he would call me Matthew by mistake. That was years ago, before he cut contact with me. I can only imagine his opinion lessened with time. But he had to leave this to me, since our secret was buried here. And I fought to keep it, fool that I am.” He held my gaze, sweat gleaming on his cheeks and neck. “Why do you think that is? Why would I try to hold on even when he hated me?”
“Because he was the only father you knew,” I shrugged. “No matter how rotten a parent is, a person can still want to pr
otect them. You’re not responsible for what happened back then.”
“I know that,” he scoffed. “But I’ve been aware of a murder all this time, and I never told anyone. Even as an adult.”
“I’m sure they can make allowances for that. You were a little boy, you had no say. They’ll understand that.”
“You thought I had a gun to your back. What do you know?” He motioned with the shovel, held across his body. “Move.”
“Move where?” I looked over my shoulder and found the trench only a yard or two from where I stood.
Oh. My pulse picked up speed as my heart started thudding.
“You think I’m going in there? No, thanks. I’ve been in there. It’s not fun.”
“I don’t think you have much of a choice.” And he was finished playing, too, judging by the flatness of his voice. “Go. In the hole.”
A million things whizzed through my brain all at once, but one thing in particular stood out: he might not have looked like he was in great shape, but he’d been able to dig up a dead body and fill the hole again, hadn’t he?
This time, he’d only have to fill in a hole that had already been dug.
“What do you expect me to do?” I asked. “Stand still? Even if I get down there, you’re gonna have to keep me in one place. Or else you’ll have to fill in the entire trench. I don’t think you could manage that even if you had an entire weekend.”
“Hmm. That’s a good point.” He lowered the shovel. “I guess I’ll have to incapacitate you somehow.”
Why did I have to open my big mouth?
For an older man, he was very quick. One second he was standing there, thinking, and the next he was swinging the shovel in a quick, decisive arc. I barely jumped out of the way in time and almost stumbled my way into the trench for the second time in less than a week.
This time, my reflexes came through and I managed to avoid falling. I took off at a run, determined to drive away and never come back.
