by Kathi Daley
Riley handed me the necklace, and I took it gently and placed it back in my drawer. One thing was for certain: I needed to either buy a safe or put the piece in a safety-deposit box until I figured out exactly what to do with it. After Lonnie and Riley left my bedroom, I took it out of my drawer again and slipped it into Olivia’s bed, beneath the pad I’d placed on the bottom of her birthing box. I trusted Lonnie, but I’d just met Riley, and I figured that it made sense not to take any chances. Leaving the necklace in the same place he’d just seen me put it seemed like asking for trouble.
Chapter 17
By the time I returned to Tanner’s place, Colt was there with Velma. The man could definitely get my heart pounding when he showed up at these events relaxed and dressed casually. Not that he didn’t look rugged and manly in his uniform, but a smiling, tousle haired Colt in faded jeans and a leather jacket was one day likely to be my undoing.
“Do you think a cat bed is a good hiding place for a valuable piece of jewelry?” I asked.
Colt laughed. “Not particularly. Why do you ask?”
I explained about the necklace and its history, as told to me by Lonnie’s friend.
“Given that very few people know of the necklace, you are probably okay, but I have a safe if you want to store it there for the time being.”
I blew out a breath of relief. “Really? That would be great. Can we put it in your safe right now? I’ve been freaking out just a bit since I found out exactly how much it is probably worth.”
Colt smiled just enough to send my heart racing. “We can do it now, but we’ll need to go right away. I just stopped by to drop off the beer and soda I promised to bring and to let Tanner know that I had to bail on his shindig.”
“You aren’t staying? Why?”
“I’m on my way to Acadia National Park.”
“I see. And is there a reason for this seemingly random trip?”
Colt nodded. “I think I may find Natalie Norris there.”
I raised a brow. “I’m going to need a bit more of an explanation than that.”
“Let me just tell Tanner that we are leaving and I will explain on the way.”
“Okay. I’ll let Georgia know as well. I’ll leave her the car keys in case we don’t make it back in time for her to go home.”
The drive to my cottage was a short one from Tanner’s place. I grabbed the necklace from beneath Olivia’s heated mat and we headed to Colt’s apartment. Along the way, I told him the story of Charlotte Torrington, as Riley had told it to me. I found that while this woman’s journey was a lot more impressive than mine, I identified with her. I, too, packed up a few possessions and took off in search of a new life despite the fact that I had never before been to my destination and had no idea what to expect. Charlotte was younger, and she did have Danny beside her, but her trip was a lot riskier than mine. She’d had to leave her home and her family with no guarantee that she’d ever see them again.
Once we had put the necklace in Colt’s safe, I asked him about Natalie Norris.
“I was able to get a court order to open the safety-deposit box. It contained two items: a knife with dried blood on it wrapped in a blue hand towel and, as you suggested, a hand-drawn map. The map isn’t superdetailed, but I’ve studied it, and from the landmarks I can identify, I believe it leads to a spot in Acadia. I suspect, given what we found in the trunk, the map may lead to Natalie’s remains.”
“Have you found out who she was yet?”
“Not yet, but I’m still looking into it.”
“Why do you think that Palmer went to all this trouble?” I asked. “I mean, if he wanted to confess to killing Grange Highlander, why not just leave a confession in his will? Why would he leave Grange Highlander’s bones to him? And if Natalie Norris does turn out to be another victim, why the map in the safety-deposit box? Why not just tell someone whatever it was he was trying to communicate?”
Colt frowned. “I can’t say. Bruce Palmer seemed to have spent a lot of time alone. Maybe he had mental health issues.”
“The guy definitely had mental health issues. He spent his life in the same house as a dead body in a trunk,” I pointed out.
“Good point. I suppose that making whoever was left with this mess after his death jump through hoops might have given him some sort of satisfaction.”
“Do you think finding Natalie’s remains will help you figure out who killed him?”
“Probably not,” Colt answered. “I have a feeling that tracking down Palmer’s alleged victims is turning out to be nothing more than a distraction from finding Palmer’s killer, but if there are missing persons out there to be found and I can give those hoping for their return closure, it seems a worthwhile thing to do.”
“I agree. In terms of Palmer’s death, is someone connected to Natalie your only lead now?” I asked.
“Natalie, or someone connected to Natalie, and the cigar-smoking stranger. I feel I’ve eliminated the other suspects on my list. The nephew with the bank account has a decent if not impenetrable alibi, the body in the trunk doesn’t appear to be related to Palmer’s murder unless I find a link between someone linked in some way to Grange Highlander and Palmer. After numerous interviews and extensive background searches, I don’t think the meal service folks are behind the man’s death. They all seem to be exactly who they claim to be. Additionally, every single neighbor agrees that Palmer did not have any visitors on the days before his death other than the meal service volunteers, so unless I am totally wrong about them, I’m at a dead end. I guess even if we decide someone connected to Natalie Norris did kill Palmer, I’ll need to figure out not only who did it but how it was done.”
“Did you test the salad dressing, cold medicines, antacids, and any other liquids that may have been in the house over a period of time, as we discussed?”
“I did, and they all came out clean. The only thing I can suggest now is that the person who killed Palmer somehow had access to the house despite the fact that no one claims to have seen anyone coming or going. Maybe this person stopped by in the middle of the night when no one was looking.”
“Or maybe they came in through the back door.”
“They would still have needed to reach the backyard from the street,” Colt pointed out.
I paused to consider that. “What about the man who lives directly behind Palmer? You said he is a photographer away on assignment who you have not been able to interview. Was he away when Palmer died? Could he have gone into Palmer’s yard via those missing fence boards you told me about and then entered the house through the back door?”
Colt tilted his head slightly. “I still haven’t spoken to him, but that’s an interesting point. He is one of the few people who could have gotten into Palmer’s home without being seen by the cameras trained on the front of the house. He just got home yesterday and I planned to arrange to speak to him next week, but perhaps I’ll try to move that up.”
“That might be a good idea. It seems like you really have exhausted all your other leads.” I glanced at the map on the seat between us. “Well, at least most of your leads.” I picked up the map and looked at it. “Why do you think this map leads to a point in the park?”
“From the overall shape and size sketched out on the paper, it looks to me as if the landmass outlined is Mount Desert Island, which is part of Acadia, and the mountain in the background appears to me as if it could be Cadillac Mountain. I can’t say so for certain because there isn’t anything on the map that can be labeled with any certainty, but I figured the park was a worthwhile place to start looking.”
I looked out the window at the passing scenery. “We have a good day for the trip anyway. The sun is out and the sea is calm.”
“It is about as nice a day as you could ask for at this time of the year,” Colt agreed. “I’ve visited the park many times, but I never tire of its desolate beauty.”
The park was, in a word, breathtaking. The thick green forest met the deep blues and grays of th
e sea. Snowcapped mountains rose in the distance and low-growing shrubs dotted the rocky landscape.
“So, where do we begin?” I asked once we arrived at the park entrance.
“The map seems to lead to a point at the base of Cadillac Mountain, so I suggest we start there. There are a lot of trails, but I doubt Palmer would have carried a body too far off the paved road, if it is even a body we are looking for. Let’s check out the paved roads and look for additional landmarks. We can always hit the trails if we don’t find anything.”
I looked at the map. “It does look as if the mountain rises up behind the spot marked with the X. And there seems to be an intersection of some sort here.” I pointed to the spot. “It could be roads or hiking trails. If Palmer did bring a body here, I’d say we will find it in an isolated area, not along a main roadway or hiking trail.”
“That is probably true.”
Colt parked at the visitor center. He wanted to get a look at a more detailed map to compare it to the hand-drawn map one before we started out. If Palmer had intended the person who took the map from the safety-deposit box to find whatever it led to, it seemed to me he should have done a better job providing details.
“If I had to guess, the place we are looking for is most likely over here, at the south end of Eagle Lake. Let’s park there and take another look,” Colt said. “If we feel like the landmarks line up, we can hike for a while, try to get a feel for the overall picture.”
“Are we thinking that if something is buried there it was done recently?” I asked. “Because if it was something that was buried decades ago, we won’t have freshly turned earth to provide an exact location, so the chance of us finding anything are going to be slight.”
“True. I have no idea when whatever it is was buried.”
“A grave that is even a year old will be hard to find. If that’s really what we’re looking for.” I looked at the map again. I thought about the knife and the fact that the safety-deposit box had been left to someone named Natalie Norris. If the map was taking us to Natalie Norris’s grave, wouldn’t someone by that name be missing? “Have you run a missing persons search for Natalie Norris?”
“Yes,” Colt answered. “I came up blank. But that doesn’t necessarily mean there isn’t a murder victim to find. People turn up dead who were never reported missing all the time.”
“I assume that we are operating under the assumption that Palmer stabbed Natalie to death and buried her here in the park. If that were true, his fingerprints should be on the knife, maybe even on the map. Did you check for prints?”
Colt paused at the car and unlocked the doors. “I checked. The map didn’t have any prints that were intact enough to be of any use, but I did manage to pull two prints from the knife. They didn’t match Palmer’s.”
Okay, that had me frowning. “The prints on the knife didn’t match Palmer’s? That seems odd if he was the one who killed Natalie Norris.”
Colt opened my door for me, then closed it and walked around to his side of the vehicle.
“What if in this case Natalie Norris isn’t the victim?” I asked after he had slipped into the driver’s seat.
He narrowed his eyes. “You think she could be the killer?”
I shrugged as I buckled my seat belt. “Perhaps. Maybe Natalie stabbed someone and Palmer knew about it. Maybe he was even an accomplice. He had the knife used in the murder, but instead of disposing of it, he hung on to it for some reason. Maybe he wanted leverage, or maybe he was blackmailing Natalie. I suppose this murder could have taken place recently, but I can also imagine a scenario in which it took place a long time ago. Maybe decades ago. Maybe even all the way back to 1966. Maybe whatever is buried in the spot marked by the X on the map relates in some way to Grange Highlander’s death.”
Colt inserted the key into the ignition and started the engine. “Say the murder took place decades ago. Why would Palmer only recently add the safety deposit box to his will?”
“Maybe he had the knife all those years and knew the location of whatever was buried but sat on it. Maybe his own mortality was catching up with him. Maybe he realized that his secret would die with him and he wanted to find a way to pass it along, but not until after he was gone.”
“Then why not leave a letter detailing whatever it was he wanted to tell?” Colt asked.
“We do seem to keep coming back to that. Nothing this man has done has made a lick of sense. He lived most of his life with a body in a trunk in his own house. Why? He had a knife with blood on it that he left in a safety-deposit box with a map. Why? Someone slowly poisoned him to death rather than just shooting or stabbing him. Why?”
“All good questions currently with no answers.”
Colt parked at the trailhead. There were still patches of snow in shady areas and there was a definite chill to the air, which meant there wouldn’t be many hikers around. That, I decided, was a good thing. Colt took out the hand-drawn map and tried to get his bearings with the actual landscape. There were several trails one could take, and we chose to head south, toward the sea. We walked at a steady pace, stopping every quarter mile or so to take a look around.
“This is like trying to find a needle in a haystack,” I said. “Especially if whatever this map leads to wasn’t recently buried.”
“Yeah.” Colt sighed. “It doesn’t seem like we are going to be able to narrow in on a specific location without more information.”
I paused and looked around. “The map makes it look as if whatever we are looking for is near a narrow, flat rock overlooking a rocky section of coastline.”
“Sounds like most of the area,” Colt pointed out.
“It does, but this rock looks sort of like a dog. Or at least a dog’s head.” I pointed to the map. “See here how this section sort of protrudes? It reminds me of a dog’s nose.”
Colt took the map from me. He studied it for several minutes, looking around as he did so. “I see what you are saying, but I don’t see anything like that. Maybe we are in the wrong section of the park.”
I looked around one last time. “Yeah. This doesn’t seem right. Maybe we should have taken the trail that forked to the left a ways back.”
“Maybe. The truth of the matter is, we could wander around this park for days and not find whatever it is this map is supposed to lead to. I knew this was going to be a long shot when I started out, but I guess I didn’t realize how much of a long shot until now.”
I pulled out my phone and pulled up a detailed map of the park. “If we would had veered right at the fork in the road about a mile on, we would have ended up on this trail leading to Dorr Mountain.” I looked at Colt. “These rock formations in the photo I found on Google look similar to the ones on the map.”
Colt nodded. “It does look like this may be the spot the map is leading toward, but it will be getting dark soon. We need to head back in that direction anyway, so let’s take a quick look around when we get to that point.”
Given the impending sunset, we picked up the pace and arrived back at the fork in the trail in less than half the time it had taken us to cover the distance in the first place. Once we arrived at the fork, we walked along the Dorr Trail for about twenty minutes before we stopped to look around.
“There,” I pointed. “Those rocks in the distance. They look close to what is on this map.”
Colt looked toward the sky. “They’re pretty far away and the terrain looks difficult. I don’t think we have time to check it out today. We’ll need to come back another time.”
I had to admit to being disappointed, but I didn’t want to get caught out in the open after dark, so I agreed that heading back to the car was probably for the best. When we were still about a half mile away from it, Colt’s phone beeped, indicating that he had a message. He took out his phone, hit Play Message, and listened. I couldn’t hear what was being said, but I could see his face mirrored confusion and then amazement.
“What’s going on?” I asked.
�
�That was a guy I know who deals with cold cases for the FBI. He called to tell me that he found Natalie Norris.”
“Found her?”
“She turned up missing in 1966, just about the same time Grange Highlander went missing. She was Palmer’s high school girlfriend.”
“So Palmer must have killed both Natalie and Grange. Why?” I asked. “I mean, I get why he killed Grange, sort of. But why Natalie?”
“Maybe Natalie found out that Palmer had killed Grange and threatened to go to the cops. Maybe he killed Natalie to protect his secret.”
“Perhaps.”
“So, if the knife in the safety-deposit box was used to kill Natalie, why weren’t Palmer’s prints on it?”
Colt furrowed his brow. “There is a lot about this that still isn’t making any sense.”
“Perhaps the knife belonged to someone else and it was the owner of the knife whose prints are on the knife. Maybe Palmer stole the knife and then wore gloves to kill Natalie so his prints were not on it.”
“I suppose that is one explanation.”
This was getting too crazy. “So what now?”
Colt looked out toward the horizon. The temperature had dropped quite a bit in the last half hour, and it would only get colder. “I’m not sure. Let’s head back to the car before it gets darker.”
During the ride home, we discussed the fact that figuring out what had happened in 1966 could very likely be the key to discovering what had happened now. It appeared that Grange was responsible for getting Palmer kicked off the football team. In retaliation, Palmer killed Grange and stuffed his body in a trunk. Palmer was still in high school then, and presumably living at home, so I wondered where he’d hidden a trunk with a decaying body then. That part was a bit hard to explain, but assuming that was what had happened, we could assume that Natalie found out about the body in the trunk and Palmer killed her to keep her quiet. We further postulated that Palmer buried her in Acadia National Park in the location indicated by the map, and that he kept the knife he used to kill her for some reason. Of course, the question of why Palmer would stuff Grange into a trunk and then hang on to it for the rest of his life while he buried his girlfriend’s body was a question neither of us had an answer for. We also discussed the fact that while the body in the trunk and the clue in the safety-deposit box were interesting, we still weren’t any closer to figuring out who had killed Bruce Palmer.
