The Dead Season

by Tessa Wegert

  “With all due respect, if he was that loyal, why did he plan to leave town without letting you know?”

  “I’ve had almost twenty years to wonder about that, and I still don’t have the answer.”

  She looked down at the toy she’d been holding, and slowly placed it on the table. Glanced up at the photos of Erynn that hung on the walls, and drew a shaky breath. “We think she’s autistic,” Cheryl said. “Did Suze tell you? Robbie’s been looking into early intervention programs, driving all over the area to find the best one. Not that he has time for that, but he does it anyway. We all struggle to get through to Erynn. I’m with her for hours, almost every day, and sometimes it’s like I’m not here at all. It’s not fair.”

  She wasn’t just referring to her granddaughter. “No,” I said, “it isn’t.”

  “He left before we had a chance to be a family. He didn’t even say good-bye.”

  I looked on as tears formed and spilled onto her cheeks. She wasn’t the only woman Brett left behind in Swanton, but Cheryl believed she’d had top billing in his life. Even now, she still felt the need to defend him. Play the role of devoted partner. Had she told herself she was everything Brett wanted? Promised him she’d heap affection onto his family and give them a life that was orderly and calm? Cheryl might have had a plan for their future, but Brett hadn’t invited her to be a part of his.

  “Ma?”

  Behind us, the front door had opened and Robbie Copely stepped inside, stomping his snowy feet on the mat. He was dressed for work in khakis and a button-down shirt under a puffy jacket. Aside from filling out a bit and growing a tidy beard that was two shades darker than his blond hair, he looked just the same. In his arms was little Erynn.

  Robbie stopped short when he saw me, and a smile spread across his face. “Well, I’ll be damned,” he said with delight. “Suze told me you were back, but I almost didn’t believe it. Shana Merchant, in the flesh. How the hell are you?”

  I’d barely managed to get to my feet before he had me in a bear hug, the child squeezed and squirming between us. He smelled of aftershave and mint gum, and when he let me go, I felt myself blush. Up close his eyes were even more striking, with lashes galore.

  “I hear congratulations are in order. Another baby. That’s great.”

  Robbie said, “Hey, thanks,” but his attention had already transferred to his daughter. “Boots by the door,” he told her as he set her down. When Erynn went straight for her grandmother and the toys, he only laughed. “You’ve made Suze pretty happy, you know, with this visit of yours. She never got over losing you as a friend. She talks about it sometimes. I get the sense she was kind of devastated about the way you left her.”

  “Oh.” Hearing it put that way was devastating in and of itself. “I do have some regrets about that.”

  “Bah, you were kids. What can you do?”

  “Right,” I said, all too happy to have an excuse.

  I hadn’t thought much about Robbie since my conversation with Crissy, but now that he was here, I wasn’t going to let the opportunity to question him slip by. His relationship with Crissy hadn’t lasted long, but a lot can happen in a few months when you’re a teenager. A lot had.

  “Not sure if Suze told you,” I said, “but I’ve been talking to Crissy about Brett.”

  He nodded. “Man, that news came as a blow.”

  “Yeah. I had no idea she and Suze were friends, by the way.”

  “Oh, that. Not gonna lie,” he said, “it was a little weird at first, but Crissy and I dated for like five minutes when we were fourteen. In a small town like this, everyone’s paths cross eventually.”

  “Come on, sweetie,” Cheryl said, taking Erynn’s hand. “Let’s get you a snack.”

  As soon as they were gone, Robbie sat down. “It’s hard for her,” he said, nodding after his mother. “She doesn’t like to talk about Crissy, and she definitely doesn’t like Suze spending time at Crissy’s place. She reminds her too much of Brett, I think. Let’s face it, she was no angel, and when her dad left out of the blue . . . Ma needed someone to blame, I guess.”

  I’m not in the habit of putting words in people’s mouths. When I’m interviewing a witness, I keep my questions dead simple to flesh out the situation and look for discrepancies. To try to catch them in a lie. Leading questions aren’t just unproductive; they can muddy the waters of an investigation. So while I was dying to ask whether there might be another reason Cheryl couldn’t stand to look at Crissy—lingering guilt over offing her father, perhaps?—I held my tongue. “Can I ask you something?” I said instead. “When Crissy was fifteen, she went missing for a while. Do you remember that?”

  Robbie’s expression softened. “’Course I do. Let me tell you, now that I’ve got Erynn not a day goes by that I’m not cursing all the psychos out there waiting to prey on an innocent girl.”

  “Tell me about it,” I said, and Robbie, as if he’d only just remembered my profession, gave a knowing nod. “I’m trying to piece that whole thing together, but my memory’s a little fuzzy.”

  “The police thought someone took her after she snuck out,” Robbie said. “They talked to everyone Crissy knew, and a lot of folks she didn’t. In the end, they figured it had to be a stranger who was passing through. A drifter or a transient worker. Lots of those around here in the summer months.”

  “There was a search party. My dad was part of it.”

  He nodded. Said, “I was there, too. I wasn’t supposed to be, but a bunch of kids from school showed up wanting to help.” When he registered my surprise, he added, “Big place, that refuge. The cops couldn’t really stop us.”

  “Wait,” I said. “How did they know to search the refuge?”

  “Someone spotted a girl along River Street not long after she went missing, but when the police got there, she was gone. They thought it might have been her, so they searched the woods. I wasn’t around when they found her, but I heard she was in bad shape.” Robbie puffed out a breath. “I guess she was lucky. Could have been a lot worse.”

  “Meaning?”

  “Well, Crissy was banged up and high as a kite, but okay in the end. It wasn’t exactly a no-harm-done situation, but close to it. Maybe that’s why the cops gave up so fast.”

  “That was Felicia’s doing.” Cheryl was back, holding Erynn by the hand and carrying a platter of sliced coffee cake. She offered a slab to Robbie, who immediately took a crumbly bite. “As soon as they found her,” Cheryl said, “Felicia asked the police to drop the investigation. I had a friend who worked as a clerk at the station back then. She told me.”

  When I was abducted, and my NCO supervisor informed my parents, they harassed him for updates day and night. I know this because Doug drove them six hours to the city, where all three of them loitered on the sidewalk outside of the precinct waiting for news. “Why would Felicia ask the police to stop looking for her daughter’s abductor?” I asked.

  “Because she’s heartless,” said Cheryl.

  “Ma,” Robbie mumbled through his full mouth.

  “No, honey, I’ll say what I like. The whole town thinks it anyway. Felicia hurt those children; I know that for a fact. That boy of hers ran off before he even finished high school, and what did she do about it? Not a thing. She didn’t try to find out who took Crissy because she couldn’t be bothered to care, not about her daughter, her son, her husband, or anyone else.”

  It was only after she said it that Cheryl remembered who Felicia was to me. Her color high, she opened her mouth, but then Erynn made a dash for the kitchen and both Cheryl and Robbie’s heads whipped around in alarm.

  “Whoa there,” he said, scooping her into his arms. “Give Daddy a good-bye kiss. Oof.” When he set his plate down and tried to lift her, his free hand shot to his lower back. Robbie was only a few years older than me, but when our eyes met, tacit knowledge passed between us. Aging is for
the birds. “I’m sorry,” he said, “I’ve only got a few minutes to get Erynn settled. On my way to work.”

  “It’s fine. I have to get going. It was good seeing you.”

  “Likewise. Any more questions, you know where to find me. It’s terrible what happened to Brett. I liked the guy, I really did. If we can help in any way,” he said, “please let me know.”

  As Cheryl showed me to the door, I heard Erynn’s voice for the first time. A squeal of joy tripping across the room, sparked by her father’s love.

  TWENTY-SIX

  When I stepped back out onto the welcome mat, it was snowing lightly once more. Across the street, one of Cheryl’s neighbors was stringing Christmas lights onto a leafless apple tree in his front yard. Aside from that, there wasn’t another person in sight.

  With my back to her door, I pulled out my phone to check my e-mail. There was a message from Harmison in response to my inquiry, along with the item I’d been after: the report from Crissy’s disappearance. I opened it and scanned the words on the screen with interest before sending him an update on my talk with Russell Loming, which included what I’d learned about the drug dealing and the possible second girlfriend. There was plenty there to keep him busy; as far as my contributions to his investigation were concerned, I hoped I was being more of a help than a hindrance.

  On my way back to my car, I noticed a sedan parked halfway up the block. Like my SUV, it was covered with a light layer of snow, just enough that I couldn’t be sure if it was white or silver, a Honda or Toyota. Based on that snow, it must have arrived after I’d gone inside. That wasn’t especially unusual. What I found odd was the person in the driver’s seat. It was a man, that much I could tell. The span of his shoulders gave the impression of brute strength. He sat perfectly still. Watching me.

  My karate training, first in the city and more recently in Watertown with Sam, was about putting some power behind my punches. To defend myself effectively, I needed to leverage my size and use an attacker’s moves against him. I did it to sharpen my reflexes, too—which is why I was so angry when, during my private lesson, Sam got the better of me. I’d spent innumerable hours visualizing the moment when Bram and I would meet again: where it might be, what he would do, how I’d retaliate when it mattered most. I can honestly say our imagined encounter was never on a Wednesday morning while snow turned a quiet residential Vermont street into a Christmas card.

  “Hey,” I said.

  The word sounded puny at first, but when I spoke it again—“Hey!”—I found my voice. I started toward the car. It was very foolish, pretending this counterfeit courage could take me to war, but the violence embodied by Trey’s tooth was rapidly bleeding into me, a transfusion of pure, hot rage. In the car, the figure shifted his weight toward the door. In my chest my heart stuttered, but I kept coming. The door swung open and the man’s foot met the curb. When his head ducked down to clear the roof and he emerged into the snow-bright light, I jolted to a stop. My shock was quickly replaced with relief, the relief with confusion.

  “Hey, stranger,” said Tim.

  “What are you doing here?” I blew out a frosty breath and shook my head. Tim Wellington in Swanton? It was inexplicable. The most horrible thoughts eddied through my mind, about Trey and Mac and everything in between.

  “It’s a valid question,” Tim acknowledged. A fisherman’s sweater peeked out from his charcoal-colored winter coat, and he tugged at the neck as though it was itchy. “I grappled with it myself on the drive over.”

  “How did you even know where to find me?”

  “There aren’t too many Merchants in town. I pulled up to your parents’ place just as you were leaving. Been shadowing you ever since.”

  “Nice,” I said with derision. “You’re my protection, is that it?”

  “Actually, I was hoping you could protect me. I couldn’t karate-chop a cube of Jell-O.”

  From the corner of my eye, I saw Cheryl’s living room drapes twitch. “Get back in the car and follow me.”

  To his credit, Tim did as he was told.

  The drive to John R. Raleigh Memorial Field was a short one, but it was far enough from Cheryl and other inquisitive locals to satisfy my urge to flee. Cheryl’s remark about town gossip had reminded me to be careful. If Brett’s killer was still in town, I didn’t want to make it any easier for him—or her—to monitor my investigation.

  I’d been to the baseball field a couple of times in recent months, secret trips to look for Bram, and had yet to come to terms with what he did in those woods. After he and I happened upon the cat, I’d betrayed his confidence by telling my dad. I didn’t like the idea of the animal out there alone all night, its eyes dull in the gloaming, or the possibility that someone else could find it. Dad went to the spot I described that evening and dug the cat a grave. Bram never asked what became of it, and I pretended to lose interest in the mystery. There would be many more to come. I parked in the lot next to the field, Tim pulled up beside my car, and I motioned for him to join me.

  “Nice digs,” he said as he slipped into the passenger seat beside me. “This is quite an operation you’re running here.” He lifted a half-empty takeout cup from the console. “I especially like the artisan coffee bar.”

  “Make do with what you’ve got, I always say.” I couldn’t help but grin. “I know it’s not the sophisticated mechanics of my investigation that brought you out here.”

  “I do have some news,” he said. “We found the guy with the tarp.”

  His tone was too cheerful to be announcing a bad break. I asked what they’d found.

  “Local guy was dumping leaves in the water. He had them rolled up tight as a cigar. I can see why the fisherman was suspicious.”

  “Does that mean the divers didn’t find anything?”

  “That’s what it means.”

  I exhaled. “And you came all this way to tell me that?”

  Of course he didn’t. McIntyre had told him about the tooth, and the strong possibility Bram was in Swanton.

  Tim looked away. “Our conversation yesterday. I didn’t like it.”

  “Me either,” I said. “I know you’re worried, but you have to trust me.”

  His eyes traveled over the houses on the outskirts of the field while snow fell on the roof of my car. “Any leads on your uncle?”

  “A few. He had a friend who’s definitely a person of interest. It sounds like he and Brett were involved in a drug-trafficking operation out of Montreal, and Brett may have been dating two different women—one of them underage, according to my aunt.” I didn’t mention that Felicia was also a suspect. “There’s something else,” I said. “Around the time Brett disappeared, my cousin Crissy did, too. My aunt had a pretty serious anxiety disorder back then, and I gather the two of them got in a fight. For two days nobody could find her, and when they did she was in the woods not far from where Brett’s remains were just found.”

  Tim’s eyes widened. “I never realized how boring my family is until now.”

  “Consider yourself lucky.”

  “What does Crissy say about all that?”

  “Not much. She was my first stop, even before I made the connection about her disappearance, but I think she knows more than she’s told me so far. I need to talk to her again. Dig deeper.”

  “So what are we waiting for?”

  “We?”

  Tim averted his eyes. “I’ve tried everything back home. We searched everywhere, exhausted every lead. You know the stats: more than seventy percent of child victims are dead within three hours of being abducted. Trey’s been gone forty-eight.”

  Christ, I thought. Two days gone was way too long.

  “If you’re right about Bram wanting you to solve this murder,” he said, looking at me again, “I should be here helping. Think of me as your secret weapon.” He waggled his dense eyebrows. “I’ll charm the t
ruth out of her.”

  I laughed at that. “You stand a better chance than I do.” I tipped my head toward the road. “Let’s go meet my cousin.”

  * * *

  * * *

  The insurance agency where Crissy worked as an office manager was located in a brick house next to Village Green Park. I tried to imagine her walking its winding paths on her lunch break, throwing bits of her sandwich to the swans that paddle in the park’s scenic fenced-in pond, but the image was at odds with Crissy’s X-rated cleavage, and it was too cold for a stroll anyway. We found her at her desk, and Tim managed to sweet-talk her into an empty office for a chat. She was decidedly less excited to find out I’d be coming with them.

  “I already told you everything I know,” Crissy said as she began fixing coffee in an ancient-looking machine. “Not my fault you don’t know what to do with it.”

  “I appreciate your help,” I said with an affected smile. “I just want Tim to hear it from you directly. I’m not sure I trust myself to get the details right.”

  As Crissy turned her back on us to fiddle with the coffee maker’s on-switch, Tim winked at me. Playing the ingénue with witnesses was his specialty, not mine, but it was an effective method for gaining trust. I took his visible pride in me as a compliment.

  “Shit,” Crissy hissed, glaring at the machine. “This thing is total crap; it’s always hit or miss.”

  “Here,” Tim said, “let me try.”

  Crissy’s expression was dubious, but she stepped aside. Before long Tim had drained the water, removed the back panel, and fished a hunk of debris from a clogged valve using one of Crissy’s fake jewel-encrusted bobby pins. “I like to watch those shows about how stuff is made,” he explained sheepishly as he worked. “These are pretty simple contraptions; only a couple of things ever go wrong. There. Try it now.”

  Crissy refilled the reservoir, and moments later the room smelled of freshly brewed dark roast.

  “I won’t make you talk about Brett if you don’t want to,” Tim said. “What I’d actually like to ask about is your disappearance.”