Storm of Secrets

by Loretta Marion

  “The internet is divided, but I’m choosing to play it safe.” She tipped her mug in my direction. “Herbal tea.”

  “Good morning,” Daniel said to Laura before turning his attention to Whistler, who greeted him with his usual robust enthusiasm, “Hey, boy.”

  He grabbed the last of the muffins Jimmy and Edgar had brought, took a bite, then winced comically.

  “Stale?”

  “Like a rock.” He tossed it into the garbage bin. “I’ll get something in town.”

  “Uncommon Grounds is open again,” Laura told him.

  “Ah, my favorite coffee shop.” He rubbed his hands together. “How’s work progressing on your cottage?”

  “Workers were there yesterday.” She held up crossed fingers. “We should be out of your hair soon.”

  “Nah. You’re great company.”

  I would miss them terribly, especially Whistler, who was now nuzzling my fingers for a treat.

  “Gotta run.” Daniel blew a kiss and was out the door.

  “Did you hear that the storm could possibly head back this way?” Laura flipped her tablet around so I could see the news headline.

  “No way!” I hadn’t had television on since before the storm and had been getting only snippets of the news the few times I’d gone online. “I knew that the storm had slowed down after it bounced off our coast.”

  “Stalled over the Atlantic now. All those boats that went out to sea to avoid the storm? They’re stranded out there, waiting for Chantal to make up her mind.”

  “I hope the Lady Spirit made it safely to a port,” I said, thinking again about the tall ship that had had a delayed departure from Whale Rock. The pleasant scent that had visited just a short while ago had now been replaced with a stronger, urgent, cautioning odor.

  I looked over at Laura, who was grimacing.

  “The foot bothering you?” I asked.

  She shook her head and that’s when I noticed she was holding her belly.

  “Just a cramp. I’ve been getting them the past couple of days.”

  Ah. Perhaps that was what was behind Percy and Celeste’s warning. What did I know about how discerning spirits could be?

  “I think you’d better go see the doctor today.”

  “My ob-gyn says it’s normal.” She waved it away. “Did Daniel have anything interesting to share?”

  I didn’t tell Laura about the latest MIA witness because I didn’t want her sniffing around the party house. But I did wonder if the mystery woman had any connection to the young man who’d disappeared.

  “I wonder,” I said, letting the thought float away.

  “What?”

  “Still can’t get that woman from the shelter off my mind. Daniel did say it would be helpful to find her and the photograph she was passing around, at least to cross it off the list as a lead or clue.”

  Laura sported an expression that spelled trouble.

  “I know that look. What are you thinking?”

  “Let’s go find her.” Laura grabbed her backpack.

  A stress fracture and boot were not slowing that one down, and if I wasn’t the one driving, she might have left without me.

  It took longer than expected to get to Wellfleet because of road crews. I thought we were going to be turned back, but Laura showed her press badge and we were waved on.

  When we arrived at the church and found Father Sebastian, he only had disappointing news for us.

  “What do you mean gone?” I asked.

  “This morning I found her cot neatly made, and the family who was bunking next to her said she hadn’t slept here last night.”

  “Did she leave her belongings?” asked Laura.

  “Nothing that we could see. But let’s go have another look.” As we walked through the maze of cots and air mattresses, Father Sebastian asked, “Why are you interested in finding Sister Bernadetta?”

  “Sister? She’s a nun?” I asked.

  The priest smiled kindly. “Many nuns have abandoned the traditional habit.”

  Laura went on to explain. “An unknown woman was seen the day of the storm in Whale Rock, passing around a photo of a man she was looking for. We think it was this woman, Sister Bernadetta.”

  “I see.” He nodded thoughtfully before asking, “Who was in the photo?”

  “That’s what we’re trying to find out,” I told him as we checked the area around the nun’s cot. “We were hoping you’d have a copy.”

  “No. Sorry. She did show it to me, but I didn’t know the man.”

  “Could you describe him?”

  “It was a black-and-white photocopy, so I couldn’t tell you hair or eye color, though he was definitely white. I’d guess middle age.” He shook his head. “Sorry, I didn’t look all that closely—just enough to know I didn’t recognize the man.”

  Laura pulled from her backpack photos of Lee Chambers and Wes Creed. “Was it either of these men?”

  “I don’t know.” He lifted a shoulder and said, “Look, I was busy and glad for the extra helping hands. During what little downtime there’s been, I’d find the sister kneeling in the church, and had no thought of interrupting her prayers. If something was troubling her, I wish I had known.”

  “You’ve heard about the child that went missing in Whale Rock before the storm hit?” I asked.

  “Just a couple days ago, when Johnny started helping people here. Our prayers have been with the family.” He tilted his head. “You think Sister Bernadetta is somehow involved with the missing child?”

  “We don’t have any reason to believe so,” Laura answered him.

  “Is this a police matter?” he asked.

  “Look, Father, we’re here unofficially,” I explained. “The Whale Rock force has its hands full searching for the lost child and also investigating a suspicious death.”

  He nodded. “I heard about that.”

  “My husband is on the Whale Rock police force,” Laura told him. “And Cassie’s fiancé is a retired FBI agent who’s been called in to help.”

  “What we’re trying to do is determine if the person Sister Bernadetta is looking for has any connection to either of those cases.”

  “And if there is no connection?” he asked.

  “Then maybe we can help her find the person she’s been searching for,” I answered.

  “Anything you can tell us might help,” Laura prodded gently.

  He scratched his head. “She showed up here at the church the day of the storm, asking if she could stay to wait it out. We were already sheltering families from lower-lying homes who hadn’t evacuated. She went straight to work helping us.”

  “Do you know where she’s from?”

  “I remember the order, but if she did tell me where, I can’t recall.”

  “What was the order?”

  “The Sisters of Saint Joseph.”

  “Are they local?”

  “I’m not sure, but I would assume they have New England orders. Wellfleet is a new congregation for me. I only recently relocated from the Midwest.”

  He followed us back outside, and Laura handed him her card. “If she shows up or you hear anything from her, please give me a call.”

  “I will.” He looked at the card before tucking it into his shirt pocket.

  We thanked him and said goodbye, but before we even made it to the truck, he was calling out for us to wait.

  “Did you remember something, Father?” I asked as he approached.

  “No, but I think that’s hers.” He pointed to the car we’d parked behind, a blue Honda with Massachusetts license plates. The car had been left unlocked, so with the priest’s permission we did a little investigating into the totally pristine, albeit nearly antique Civic.

  “Trusting lady. Here are the keys,” Laura said after opening the glove compartment. She tried starting it, but the engine wouldn’t turn. “It’s not the battery. Oh, I see the problem. The gas gauge is on empty.”

  “So she either left on foot or hitche
d a ride with someone,” I said.

  The priest’s expression made clear his dubious position.

  “Now what?” Laura asked after returning the keys to the glove box.

  “We can pray,” Father Sebastian suggested.

  “Thank you, Father. Pray for little Lucas too,” I said.

  “Of course. We have been praying for him daily,” he assured us as we took our leave.

  “I’ll check with local cabs to see if they picked up anyone last night from Wellfleet,” Laura said as we headed out.

  “Good idea. You do that, and I’ll call the bus station.” They’d been running a limited schedule, but if an evening route was operating last night, maybe we’d get lucky and find a driver who remembered the woman.

  “Drop me off in town?” Laura asked. “I’ll pick up the car from Jason. Hopefully, the force will be getting another cruiser soon, and we won’t have to be sharing the Subaru all the time.”

  * * *

  On my drive back to The Bluffs, I put in some calls to see where search crews might be working today, hoping to go out and help. If Christopher was around, I’d see if he wanted to go with me.

  I found him sitting outside the carriage house, Gypsy panting at his feet.

  “I don’t know where it’s hotter, out here or in there.” He thumbed toward the carriage house.

  “Sorry about that.” A heat wave had followed the tropical storm, and it showed no signs of relenting. We had never had a need for air-conditioning at The Bluffs because of the ocean breezes. I’d installed a unit in the carriage house to keep renters comfortable on sweltering days, but a power surge during the storm had fried the compressor, and we were at the bottom of our electrician’s very long list. Being uncomfortable didn’t rank up there with having no running water, refrigeration, or lights. By all counts, we were one of the luckier locals.

  “Any news on Lucas?” he asked.

  I shook my head. “I thought you might want to hit the trails with me. They’re allowing searchers back into the land trust now that most of the hazardous trees have come down. We might have to go off trail in some places.”

  “Sure, I’ll go,” he said, but Gypsy stood and cowered at the sound of a WRPD cruiser pulling up the drive.

  “It’s okay, girl,” Christopher said, stroking the dog’s ears as Brooks walked over to where we were sitting.

  “Morning.” He nodded to us, his face serious.

  “What can I help you with, Chief?”

  “Would you know anything about the disappearance of Zach Renner?” he asked bluntly.

  “I don’t even know the name. Who is Zach …?” He raised a palm in question.

  “Renner,” Brooks repeated the last name. “He begged off a night out with his friends, claiming a headache, and hasn’t been seen again.”

  “Why would you think I’d know anything about it?”

  “Because he’s the individual who identified you as having an altercation with Lee Chambers shortly before Chambers was murdered.”

  Murdered? I wondered what details had emerged. Or was Brooks playing heavy-handed with the term to make Christopher nervous?

  Christopher blew out a deep breath before saying, “How many times do I have to tell you people? Whoever the kid saw, it wasn’t me. Perhaps you should broaden your search instead of focusing on me. You’d have a better chance of finding whoever it really was.”

  Brooks’s jaw tensed at the insinuation that the Whale Rock police were not doing their job.

  “Maybe Zach Renner had something to do with Lucas going missing,” Christopher continued. “But I assure you, I did not.”

  An uncomfortable moment passed before Brooks pulled a small notepad from his shirt pocket.

  “Where were you last night? Specifically, after six.”

  “I was in town until about eight or so.”

  “Doing what?”

  “Having dinner at The Diner.”

  “Can anyone corroborate this?”

  “Yes.” Whether to annoy Brooks or for dramatic effect, he hesitated before finally providing the name. “Tyler Stendall.”

  “You knew we wanted to talk with him!” Brooks exploded at Christopher, who in turn looked sharply at me. There went the good will I’d been trying to build.

  Brooks caught the look and probably realized his slip, since it was I who’d told Christopher about the police looking for Tyler when I was trying to get information on the sealed documents.

  “What was the purpose of this meeting?” Brooks asked in a more composed voice.

  “I was planning to ask for his permission to release the sealed documents.”

  “Did he consent?”

  “I didn’t have the opportunity to ask.”

  Brooks raised his eyebrows.

  “It wasn’t the right moment. He’s going through a tough time, and I’ve often been his sounding board.”

  “Would you say it’s unusual for a teacher to stay connected with a student so many years later?”

  “It’s rare,” Christopher agreed, “but we had a rare bond, stemming from his need to confide in someone when he was a kid.”

  “It seems kids like to confide in you.”

  Christopher met Brooks’s stern gaze. “Yeah, I guess they do. Kind of goes with the job of being a teacher. You know, molder of minds and character?”

  Brooks ignored the sarcasm. “What time did you get back here last night?”

  “I got the bus around eight.”

  So the bus was running last night.

  “Where was Tyler going?”

  “He said he was meeting someone.”

  “Do you know who? Where?”

  “I didn’t ask. It was none of my business.” Christopher sized up the police officer. “I have good reasons for not pushing Tyler right now. He’s fragile.”

  “So is the ice you’re standing on. You might want to start thinking of your own situation.” Brooks flipped his notebook closed to answer an incoming call.

  He held his phone to his chest and said to us, “Hang tight a minute.” He then walked to his cruiser where he was out of earshot.

  I broke the uncomfortable silence while we waited by attempting to explain to Christopher. “I was acting as a buffer for you. Giving you some time to track down Tyler before they did.”

  “It’s fine.” He kept his eyes on Gypsy, who was still panting nervously.

  “I hear they’re trying to arrange for you and Nicholas to talk.” It wasn’t cool of me to be telling him this, but I hoped to regain his trust.

  He finally looked up.

  “Act surprised when you hear it?”

  “Is it likely?” he asked.

  I fluttered my hand. “It could go either way.”

  “There are some questions I’d like to ask him.”

  “Like what?”

  “Nicholas has a wild imagination. Some of the stories he told me were way out there. I simply dismissed them as the inventiveness of a child’s mind.”

  “I understand. But if there’s anything you can comfortably share that might help the investigation …”

  “I’ve been upfront with the police on anything that could be construed as a clue. I’ve given them my impressions of the Kleisters.”

  “Which are?”

  “They seemed like nice, normal people, though the mother was a bit distracted. Who wouldn’t be with four kids?”

  “True.” No doubt the reason Adderall was her drug of choice.

  “Especially with how inquisitive Nicholas was, each question leading to ten more. He was intrigued by pirates.” He smiled and began mimicking Nicholas. “Christopher, how bad would someone have to be to walk the plank? What’s a stowaway? If a stowaway was found out, would they have to walk the plank?”

  Hearing what a chatterbox Nicholas had been made his present silence seem all the more ominous. “It’s too bad he’s closed down.” I hesitated before asking, “So what was the pact about?”

  “Without going into a
ny specific detail, I assured Nicholas he could always come by the cottage if he was frightened.”

  “What would he have to be frightened about?”

  “Monsters.” He shrugged when I made a face. “He’s a six-year-old boy. Monsters are still a very real thing for boys that age.”

  I was enveloped by the scent of burning sugar. Monsters, ghosts, spirits. Who was I to judge?

  I pulled out my phone to show Christopher the photo of Sister Bernadetta. “Did you by chance see this woman on the bus last night?”

  He narrowed his eyes and stared for longer than I would have expected. “She looks a little familiar.” He rubbed his chin. “But I can’t place her.”

  Brooks cleared his throat to announce his return, and Christopher handed back my phone.

  “Who’s that?” Brooks craned to see the photo.

  “That woman from the day of the storm,” I told him.

  He did not look at all pleased that I’d shown the photo to Christopher Savage, but got right to business. “I have to take you to town, Mr. Savage.”

  “Why?”

  “Cassie, can we have a minute?”

  “Sure.” I reluctantly stood and walked back toward the house, trying to make out what Brooks was saying. I stayed on the porch, watching the two men in serious discussion.

  A few moments later, Christopher walked over and said, “I need a favor. Can you keep an eye on Gypsy? Let her out?”

  “Of course, but what’s going on?”

  He made a popping sound with his mouth before answering, “I’m being arrested.”

  “Why?”

  “The shoe they found under my deck stairs? It’s Lucas’s. They also found blood evidence around and under the deck stairs.”

  “What does that prove?” I asked.

  “Let’s get going.” Brooks walked toward us, not giving Christopher the opportunity to answer.

  “I’ll just put Gypsy inside,” he told Brooks, and then to me, “Thanks for checking on her.”

  After Christopher walked away, Brooks gave me a stern look and said, “Keep this under wraps.”

  “I’m not now, nor have I ever been part of The Rock grapevine.” In fact, I was always more likely to be a subject of the chatter. “Nobody will hear anything about this arrest from me, but good luck trying to keep it a secret.”

  His eye roll said it all.