Who Do You Trust Now? (A Disappearance Mystery Thriller Book 5)

by Laura Greene

  LAURA GREENE

  A DISAPPEARANCE

  Mystery Thriller

  WHO DO YOU TRUST NOW?

  Copyright © 2021 Laura Greene – All rights Reserved

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of the copyright owner.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any similarity to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

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  Table of Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Also by Laura Greene

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  About the Author

  Chapter 1

  Why didn’t they just kill me? Melody ponders, frustrated. It’s not that she wanted to lose her life, but that she was certain she was a goner this time.

  Her lifeless body lies still, with exhaustion. It’s not like her to be so limb. If she could move it she would, but she really can’t right now, and it’s beginning to worry her. Whatever she has been through, she can tell, has taken a toll on her physically.

  Just moments ago, Melody regained consciousness from what seemed like a rather abrupt blackout. Her mind is foggy; she can’t recall a thing. As hard as she tries to remember what happened to land her in this situation, searching her mind, a wall seems to have been placed on her brain, blocking any recollection of the most recent events of her life.

  But she is alive.

  For now, at least. Her eyes are still shut though she has spent the last few minutes trying with all her might to open them. Barely, do her eyeballs waver beneath her non-fluttering eyelids. It’s as if her body is shutting out each attempt to draw in memory of… Was it minutes? Hours? Days? She does not know. But she must find out.

  Melody’s love of adventure has landed her in many dangerous predicaments this past month and a half that she has spent in Scotland. She did not plan to take this trip, but Uncle Tobias drew her in with a threat to shut down her entire archeology dig. With her team anticipating this trip, she just couldn’t stand to let him eradicate her project. She hates to admit it, but her uncle is powerful and has been known to stop major operations of small countries with just a phone call.

  She hates to admit weakness, but she had no choice. Perhaps, that is why she is so frustrated. Uncle Tobias sent her to find her estranged father, and Deacon Island, an isle of Scotland was the last place he was located. Few outside of her family can really appreciate the awkwardness of trying to locate someone you feel you should know well, but know so little of.

  Yet, here she is.

  It’s been years since she last saw him. Her father would disappear on international trips that Uncle Tobias planned for him, without so much as a goodbye. Then show up unannounced, just to leave again shortly after his arrival. He just upped and left her for much of her childhood and teenage years, and over time, Melody learned to focus on her mother’s side of the family. At least there, she had a sense of stability.

  It had honestly been easier to ignore her father’s side of the family, that is, until Uncle Tobias infiltrated her life – and he cannot take no for an answer. It’s not that Melody does not care for her father, but she spent so many years hoping that her father would come back and live a more stable lifestyle where he can be present in her life more, then as the years went by, she learned he was not going to change. The only change she could make was her own – to move on with her life.

  Then Uncle Tobias sent one of his goons. Before long, Melody Harker had a new alias – she was now Melody Winter. She was no longer an archeologist, for the sake of her safety and to appear more believable in her new role, she became a teacher to little Rebecca, niece to Will and Max Deacon, and her motive became researching for a book she is writing on the history of Deacon Island.

  Little did she know that she had taken over her father’s life and replaced him in the very house where he was last seen before disappearing. It was difficult at first, maintaining her alias, but it got easier with time as she discovered clues and learned who might have had reason to get rid of her father.

  She was so close.

  Melody stretches her neck to one side. Her dizziness is wearing off and she is regaining feeling in her limbs. She stretches her arms and legs. She can tell they have been stiff for some time. Then, with laborious, desperate breaths, her chest moves up and down longing to fill with air again. The sharp, painful stings as she breathes remind her that she is above ground. It fills her with hope; but her eyes are still heavy with sleep.

  Now, she focuses her attention on reopening her eyes.

  How long have I been out? She wonders. For the second time since she arrived on Deacon Island, her body feels like she has been dragged down a hill of jagged rocks. What happened? For Melody, danger is starting to become her new normal.

  A thrilling discomfort rushes through her veins. Like her father, she loves adventure, she longs for it, but the fear that keeps her alive tells her that this is not how normal life should be; it’s not how most people live. Still, she pines for the risk promised in adventure. That is why she came to Scotland. That is why she abandoned reason and counsel from her friend Brad to come find her father. That is also why she stayed.

  For years, she has tried to run from the image of her father, like the fruit did not fall far from the tree, but on this trip, she is finding that she is more like him than she first thought. Like her father, she left her family and her life in Boston, abruptly, to come to Scotland. The clues he left behind, like the pocket watch and note hidden behind a painting were designed for her to find because she knows him best. Uncle Tobias chose me, it dawns on Melody, because I am just like my father. The thought is as unsettling as it is true.

  Her eyes burst open with fervor. No wonder my eyes were in no rush to open, she thinks, it’s dark and ominous. While her eyes adjust to the indistinct tones of acutely faint light, a sudden revelation jogs her memory, “Nell!” Her voice punctures the mute silence of the room with a soft yell.

  In a more subdued tone, as if the walls might be listening, she utters, “It was Nell.” Her eyes flutter as a flood of memories rolls in with abandon like a sea wave. “She brought me here.”

  It is troubling for Melody as it is somewhat embarrassing to recall that a girl of fifteen years outsmarted her. But she can not prevent the memory from flowing in. Squinting with perceived pain, she thinks back to the night Nell followed her and admitted watching Melody for some time now. Melody questioned how on such a small island someone could go unnoticed, but Nell had a record of events ready, events that only someone following her would know. Then Nell revealed that her mother knew what happened to Mr Sanders – Melody’s father.

  At first, Melody did not trust Nell and now she knows she should have trusted her instincts. Why did I get on the boat with her? She sighs her frustration remembering hopping on a small power boat with Nell. Deeply hurt by the treachery of someone she trusted, Melody aches as she realizes that was the moment she lost out.


  Nell knew all along that she was not going to help me. Melody’s heart beats faster as her blood pressure rises. She is livid with herself. How could I fall for it? Nell tricked me. She brought me all the way to this island just to dump me here and leave me for dead.

  When Nell sped off, Melody was in despair. It was as though Nell sailed off and took with her the last trickle of hope Melody had of finding her father; deep into the seas she went as Melody watched hope disappear with Nell. And there she was, stuck, destitute on an island that she does not even know the name of.

  Then, a thought trickles in, “Did anyone see us leave Deacon Island together?” She wonders. A few moments of contemplating and replaying her final minutes on Deacon Island pay off. There were two fishermen that Melody remembers passing by at the dock. They stood out to her because they were out very early in the morning, checking on their sail boat even before McCorrie had checked on the Blue Elm. They didn’t say anything, but the scruffy helmsman in dark blue corduroy overalls and a matching cap, with a strawberry blonde, thick beard and bushy eyebrows did acknowledge her with a smile and a nod. His teeth were off-white but his smile was gentle.

  She can’t say she had seen them before, but it is common for fishermen to dock at Talon’s Point temporarily, then pick up sail with their bows headed to another island.

  After that, she can’t recall running into anyone else. Please God, can you have one of those men come and rescue me or at least tell Morrison where I am? Melody utters her silent prayer. In many ways, God has been her one constant companion on this journey, it just feels right to call on Him now in her hour of need.

  When her eyes adjust to the obscure room, she carefully analyzes her surroundings. The murky ambience slows her down until she can capture uneven walls dipping in and veering off at parts, almost naturally formed. It looks like she’s in a cave.

  She has to take a closer look.

  Gently, she glides her arms like beams to support her body as she sits up. They are weak, but sturdy enough to hold her ascent into a sitting position. Then she sees it, a smoldering light, dimly glowing from just beyond her feet. Where am I? She ponders, cautiously, wondering if the light is pointing her to an entrance to the cave.

  Suddenly, a sharp pain shoots through her head. “Argh,” with one hand she clenches her head, pressing it to stop the throbbing. Melody has a splitting headache, at once, she leans back on her elbows, woozy from something, like she has been drugged.

  Instantly, she smells it as though it is still over her mouth. The chemical lingers in her nostrils and she knows it well. It’s the same one she used in her medical archeology class when they studied ancient forms of anesthesia. The smell is sweet and it’s pleasant to the taste.

  “Chloroform. I was drugged?” She questions. Then, turning to her side, in the direction the light is shining from, she sees a rag, sniffs it, shocked to learn her findings are correct. Chloroform inhalation of this magnitude, won’t last more than twenty-four hours in the system, she calculates. But who? A chilling thought enters her mind and she shudders. She’s not sure if someone was trying to kill her or teach her a lesson. Perhaps this was a warning sign.

  Melody saw Nell sail off from the shore so it couldn’t have been her. Who was she working with? She wonders as the sweet scent of the rag permeates to her nose again.

  Knowing that chloroform is toxic and can even be fatal, she picks the rag up, carefully and throws it across the room, to a spot as far from her as possible.

  As her arm lowers, it brushes against a dark hiker's backpack. It was there all along, but she couldn’t see it in the mostly pitch-black cave. She grabs it, hauls it close to her and ransacks it. Inside, there are supplies – what looks like a few days’ supplies. Her mouth salivates as she wonders how many days it has been since she last ate or drank anything.

  The first thing she sees is a bottle of water. Good, this will help me clean out the chloroform from my system, she thinks, then downs it in one sitting.

  The water awakens her hunger and already, her headache is fading away. Immediately, Melody is ready to scour at the food neatly packed just below the clothes, but she pauses, deep in thought. Why didn’t they kill me when they had the chance? The unknown circumstances of her situation spring fear inside her and she subconsciously leans back, holding the backpack until her back is leaning against the wall of the cave.

  She gasps.

  Stroking her hands up and down, she feels the rocky ridges along the wall. Then she realizes, Food? Water? Clothes? A cave away from the elements or predators? Someone wasn’t trying to kill me, they were trying to keep me alive! Who or for what, she is still wondering.

  After eating, or more like scoffing down the food, she picks up the clothes, they are her size and cleans herself up. For a moment, she forgets that she is alone on some lonely island.

  But the silence around her is deafening. She can only enjoy the provisions for a short while before she stands up, walks towards the mouth of the cave, looking for the entrance.

  “Hello?” She calls out, gently.

  There’s no answer.

  She peeks out. Her cave is neatly tucked inside a raised pocket of the mountain. She can see parts of the island quite easily – the vast greenery veils any sign of life on the island, trees high and low weaving together, obscuring from her view, the ground below. She saw those when she was sailing in with Nell. Past the trees she sees a thin lining of the beach accenting the edges of the island with warm, earthy tones. Then the vast waters of the Atlantic sparkle as they stretch into the horizon.

  She stands mesmerized at the view, grateful that she at least got to see this sight. It’s what she has longed for, to enter into the waters, to travel with no inhibition and explore the islands near Talon’s Point. The sight is breathtakingly beautiful, yet she can’t help but recall the old saying, be careful what you wish for.

  Her mission may not be going the way she had hoped for, but that is not going to stop her. Melody shakes off the thought at once. She would rather see her obstacles as stepping stones to her success and her disappointments as appointments. Just then, she drowns her self-doubt in the deep waters and draws out her hope for success.

  This dose of confidence is just what she needs to continue exploring. With how dark the cave is, she would like to find some wood to light a fire with and stay warm at night. She retrieves her eyes from the dreamy ocean and finds at her side, just below the jagged rocks, what looks like a little, cozy cottage. It’s near the mouth of the cave, so she thinks she can get to it without disturbing her surroundings too much.

  Her heart leaps within her at the sign of life she was looking for. She runs back in the cave, with familiarity, and her sudden rush of excitement awakens a small bat, sending it flying out of the cave with speed, but Melody is not phased. On her mind are two questions: What can I use to get to the cave? And How can I get in?

  After bringing her bag to the mouth of the cave, where there is ample light, she opens her bag of provisions again, searching. Shaking the bag upside down, a pen falls out, another set of clothes, power bars and water. She was really hoping to find a key.

  Just then, she remembers something, and runs back into the cave. Where is it? There was something that fell out of the bag when she first opened it, but she didn’t pay it too much mind at the time. Now, she really needs to find it.

  Blindly feeling for it on the floor, she caresses her hands along the uneven ground. Was it near this wall when I was sitting here? She tries to jog her memory. All she heard was a small clink when she unlatched the clips and loosened the top of the bag.

  She feels for some pockets at the bottom, right under the ridges on the wall and, “There!” Her fingers brush against something and the clinking sound chimes again.

  It’s the key.

  Stretching out her fingers until they are flat and extended, Melody squeezes the tips under the ridges, lightly taps the edge of the key. Then she swivels her fingers on top until she ha
s just enough skin on the surface of the key to slide it out. Slowly, she pulls back until the key is released from under the ridge and safely in her possession again.

  Kneeling along the wall of the cave, the chloroform scent has now worn off and Melody can smell the musty cave. It’s a mix of mold, dust and dampness. She imagines cobwebs and more bats surrounding the room, she knows it’s not where she wants to sleep again.

  Quickly, she latches onto the key, rushes out of the cave, repacks the bag, and starts her descent down the rocky edge of the cave. It looks more like a cliff, so she takes her time, carefully selecting each step. With ease she makes it to the bottom of the cliff and rushes to the tiny, tan cottage.

  Up close she can see it better. There is marsh growing along it’s archaic roof and lush green weeping willow trees hang over it, almost mourning over its unkempt state. There is a sturdy brown door with a brown, glass arch over it. To the right, there are two windows visible, with naturally forming moss decorating their sills and surrounding walls. One of the windows has a uniquely molded arch, almost peering out of the roof and connecting to the rest of the house. The artistry involved in forming such an intricate decoration on the house captures Melody’s attention.