by J K Ellem
The further they went, the more sticky and heavy the atmosphere became, the bright sun now reduced to a watery haze that struggled behind a veil of murky cloud.
Then the water darkened and Shaw opened up the little outboard motor some more. The front of the boat rose as the propeller dug in and soon they were bobbing along at a good rate. The banks were thick with grasses and rushes. Occasionally, a water bird, startled by the noise of the engine, took flight out of the grass, shrieking in annoyance as they went past.
Once they cleared the salt marsh and entered the open channel, the atmosphere changed. The water turned a cold gray-green and the temperature cooled. But the water was calm and they made good time crossing over to Moors Island.
From the channel Shaw could see the row of beachside mansions and further along the point the Brenner Estate came into view. Behind them, the cliffs stood tall with the ominous shape of the Ballard Mansion, stoic and silent perched at the edge.
Following the map, Shaw angled the bow towards a small jetty on the western, sheltered side of the island.
By his visual calculations, Shaw believed they could probably walk the entire circumference of the island in under twenty minutes, that is, if the entire island could be covered safely on foot.
A treacherous line of jagged rocks ran from the southern part around to the northern tip where the open water of the Atlantic roiled and lashed at the rocks. The only sign of a safe access point was where the jetty stood next to a small beach.
They tied the boat at the jetty and climbed to a small wooden dock. Annie left the cooler in the boat. A small, pebble path led from the dock towards an imposing wall of thick foliage.
“I guess this is the only way into the interior of the island.” Shaw said.
“This should bring us out onto the other side near the lighthouse,” Annie replied. She had studied some of the older maps and nautical charts online. But a map drawn years ago and the reality of the terrain today were two completely different things.
Shaw pushed aside heavy branches and stepped in, Annie close behind, and the wall of green swallowed them both.
They threaded their way along the path through curtains of vines, past layers of tree trunks and fallen logs. The ground was brittle and dry in some places, damp and mushy in others. The forest pressed in around them and muted light filtered through from above. The air was heavy and earthy. The only sound came from their own breathing. Twice they had to backtrack, the path seemed to fade away in the undergrowth only to reemerge again a few feet later. It was like the island had its own distinct ecosystem, separate from the mainland, detached from it, not part of it. They had stepped into another world. Water trickled through coarse rocks then vanished under a thick drooping layer of green.
Fifteen minutes later came the distant crash of waves somewhere up ahead. The greenery thinned and they emerged on the other side onto a pebble beach ringed with a hard line of black rocks. They were on the ocean or windward side of the island. A cold breeze thrashed at them where they stood and waves crashed against the rocks sending plumes of spray into the air. To the left rose the lighthouse, a giant chess piece, a white queen, a tall conical shape with the lamp as its crown, ringed with a steel railing. The lighthouse structure was enclosed by a tall chain wire fence with a sign from the US Coast Guard warning people that it was government property. A heavy chain was threaded through the fence with an even heavier padlock attached. They weren’t going any further.
“The old cabin that was burned down,” Shaw said turning to Annie, “do you know where it is?”
“No, but the island is small. It shouldn’t be too hard to find.”
There seemed to be only one path that bisected the island west to east along its narrow axis. Shaw had seen no other paths or trails. It was obvious that access to most of the island shoreline was limited, protected by a seemingly impenetrable barrier of natural rock and violent ocean waves.
They decided to head back along the path, back to the interior. Shaw stopped once he estimated they were half-way, somewhere near the center as best as he could determine. “Let’s come off the path, take a look.”
They left the path and were immediately confronted by a tangle of branches, vines, and layers of fallen foliage that had built up over time. Shaw performed a series of concentric circles, threading his way through the undergrowth, spiraling outwards from a central point then extending the distance a little more with each pass.
Then something caught his eye, a change in the mosaic pattern of greens, and browns. “Over there.” He motioned to Annie to a spot on the right. “Nature doesn’t grow in straight lines.”
It was the carcass of a structure, almost completely overrun by the forest, as if the surrounding plants were slowly digesting what remained of the cabin, absorbing the very timber fibers themselves back to nature, completing the circle.
Shaw pushed back a curtain of vines and stepped through to where one wall of the cabin once stood. He found himself in the lower third of a small living space, the tumbled brick remnants of a fireplace at one end. Light seeped through the canopy of branches above. Most of the roof was gone, just a few beams, blackened by fire, the charred framework acting like a trellis for the vines and creepers to anchor skywards.
The ground was littered with charred wood, broken glass, rocks and dead animals. Something slithered across the ground, leaves rustled as a snake exited.
They spent the next ten minutes kicking at debris and searching through the undergrowth, looking for recent habitation.
“No one has been here in a while,” Annie said.
“Doesn’t look like it,” Shaw replied.
They exited the ruins and stood outside in the silent forest.
“What now?” Annie asked.
“Let’s take a look at the rest of the island.” Shaw headed north this time. Moments later they were once again out of the forest and facing the expanse of the ocean, standing on a rock ledge, waves crashing below. There was a narrow crevice cut into the rock, the deeper it went the narrower it became. Sea water surged in to the crevice then slowly withdrew as the waves receded, gathering again for the next surge.
A floating tangle of trash had been pushed deeper along into the furthest reaches of the crevice. Plastic soda bottles, a tangle of fishing line, dead fish wrapped in old netting, milk cartons, a yellow flip-flop and splintered wood were all bundled and twisted together.
Shaw was about to turn and head back, the search exhausted, when he saw something below.
“Wait here,” he said to Annie.
“It’s dangerous,” she protested. “You could get swept out in the current.”
“I’ll be fine.”
The rocks were slippery as Shaw descended down and into the crevice, but there were plenty of footholds. Something was caught in the fishing net in the tangle of trash below. It was a piece of wood, painted and varnished that he had seen. Shaw judged the next surge of water, waiting for it to push the tangle of trash higher towards his outstretched hand.
He reached down to grab at the wood, his fingers just inches from it. But the water withdrew again and the ball of trash floated out of reach once more, taking the piece of varnished timber with it.
Reversing his footing Shaw stepped down a few more inches, determined not to be beaten.
The tide surged again. He bent and stretched out as far as he could without tumbling into the water. The ball of trash floated towards him, he grabbed at the netting then the wood. The wood wasn’t going to come free. It was snagged and weighed down by the rest of the trash that was all caught up in the tangle.
Shaw tensed his arm and strained every muscle and pulled as hard as he could. The waves surged up to his knees, then up to his waist.
It was no use. The piece of wood wouldn’t budge. The water began to recede, drawing the ball of trash back out through the crevice, pulling Shaw with it in the backwash.
Shaw had to let go, otherwise he would be pulled completely into the wa
ter and out into the ocean.
Shaw twisted the piece of wood then let go. There were words on it, writing, the paint faded but he could just make them out.
Wind Dancer.
35
“Are you certain that’s what it said?”
“It was piece of lumber, maybe teak. The words “Wind Dancer” were on it.”
Annie and Shaw stood at the top of the rocky ledge looking down at the ball of trash. The current had pulled it further away and there was no way of retrieving the wood without getting caught in the flow and being pulled out to sea or drowning in the crevice. The wind had picked up and the surge in the crevice was a lot rougher now.
“The lumber is from some part of the interior of the boat,” Shaw said. “Maybe over a doorway or part of a cabin.” Shaw looked on as the ball of trash drifted further out. “The current over the years must have swept it in this direction until it landed against the rocks, then it accumulated with the rest of the trash, pooled it all in one spot under a natural flow.”
“So where’s the rest of the boat?” Annie asked.
Shaw turned to her. “Gone,” he replied. “Sunk, broken up. Probably at the bottom of the ocean. If there was any more wreckage it would have been swept up here on the island by now. But nothing else has been found Abby said.”
“Are you going to tell her about this? What you found.”
Shaw was disappointed and angry.
“What’s wrong?” Annie asked.
“I just thought he was alive, not dead,” Shaw said. “I just had a feeling, like he was out there somewhere.” Shaw looked out at the vast expanse of ocean. Cold, empty, relentless in its power. When Shaw had stood in Edward Brenner’s boat shed, he had felt the man’s presence. It lingered in the air, on the tools, on every surface, like he was still around, alive, would return one day, pick up a saw or wood planer and continue where he’d left off. Edward Brenner seemed like the kind of man who wouldn’t pass on easily. He was resilient, was a survivor. And now everything pointed to the fact that he was gone.
“You’ll have to tell her, Ben. Tell her what you found.”
Shaw thought for a moment as he watched the piece of wood twisted up in the net get pulled further from his reach. “Not yet.” Shaw walked away as Annie looked at him, wondering what was wrong.
They ate the food Ralph Jacobson prepared, then took the boat back to the mainland. Shaw said nothing to Jacobson, insisting that Annie keep quiet about the wreckage they had found. They thanked Jacobson for the use of his boat. Shaw offered to pay for fuel but the old man refused.
Shaw told Annie he wanted to go to the Brenner Estate to see how Abby was recovering, and Annie agreed to go with him. Shaw was still uncertain if he would tell Abby about the piece of wood.
When they approached the estate, they could tell something was wrong.
Ruddy Kerber rushed out to meet them, mild panic in his eyes.
“What’s wrong?” Shaw asked.
The New York attorney seemed flustered. “Where is Abby?” he asked.
Shaw looked at Annie. “Isn’t she here?”
Kerber’s gaze settled on Annie, wondering who she was. Annie introduced herself and Kerber apologized for being so abrupt. “I’m sorry. It’s just that she wasn’t here this morning. I saw her yesterday evening but her bed hasn’t been slept in.”
“And her car?” Shaw asked.
“Gone,” Kerber replied. “She seemed fine when she came home from the hospital. A bit tired but that was expected.” The attorney looked perplexed. “What about Teddy Hanson?” Annie asked. “Maybe she went back to confront him?”
“I spoke to the police, told them about Abby and they tried to contact him,” Kerber answered. “But he’s not answering his cell phone and no one knows where he is.”
“And Mrs. Brenner?” Shaw asked. “Where is she?”
Kerber indicated towards the house. “She’s inside. The police were here earlier today. They said they will keep a look out for Abby given what happened night before last.
Shaw had an awful thought, hoping he was wrong. Kerber seemed to read his mind. “I don’t think she would harm herself,” Kerber said. “She seemed more angry than depressed at what happened. She really wanted to see you but we had no idea where you had gone last night.”
Shaw explained that Annie had been helping him with some research on the area and that they had been out today to Moors Island. Shaw left out the details about why they went there or the piece of wood they had found.
Kerber continued, “And Abby’s cell phone seems to be off. I’ve called numerous times and it just goes to voice-mail.”
“Maybe she just needed some space,” Shaw suggested. “Some time out from everyone.”
Kerber seemed to think about this. “It is not out of character,” he said. “If it wasn’t for the recent events, I would think nothing of it. She’d often go off alone for long periods of time, even for days I’ve been told.”
Shaw looked up at the main house, wondering where Kerber had found that piece of information, if Abby’s mother even cared what her daughter did on a day-to-day basis. He could have sworn he saw a curtain of an upstairs window move slightly, a shape standing back in the darkness watching him.
Kerber paced back and forth, rubbing his chin. “The police said they will contact her friends and ask them if they have seen her. There may be a perfectly logical explanation.” It sounded like Kerber was trying to convince himself.
“Annie and I will take a look.” Shaw turned to leave. “Just one more thing,” he said to Kerber. “The cell phone Abby gave me to use.”
Kerber looked up. “Yes? What about it?”
“Can I have it?”
Kerber’s eyes narrowed.
“So I can call you in case we find anything,” Shaw added.
Kerber shrugged. “It’s still in the plastic bag that the police stored it in when they took you into custody. It’s on the kitchen counter.”
Kerber returned a few moments later with a ziploc bag with Abby’s spare cell phone inside.
Shaw thanked him and followed Annie back to her car.
Once inside the car, Shaw turned on the phone.
“What are you looking for?” Annie asked as she reversed out and got back onto the main road.
Once the phone cycled through its startup Shaw began scrolling through the messages. “This phone is mirrored to Abby’s new phone. She told me that she keeps this older phone just as a backup. But they are linked.”
“You didn’t tell Kerber this fact?”
“No. I want to see for myself.”
Annie smirked. “You’re like me, Ben. You don’t trust people.”
“Pull over,” Shaw said suddenly. “Now!”
“What?” Annie slid the car to the shoulder of the road, hitting the brakes hard.
Shaw held up the phone so Annie could read the screen. It was a text message received by Abby’s phone at close to midnight last night:
Meet me if you want to know what happened to your father.
If you’re going to break in to a house, it’s best done under the cover of darkness. So they drove back to Annie’s cottage to get ready.
The text message that was sent to Abby’s phone was from a hidden number. But it didn’t matter. Shaw had a duplicate history of the texts sent and received. He could see where Abby had respond asking “who is this?” The person would not reveal their identity. They simply told Abby to meet at the picnic area near the access road that leads up from the base of the cliffs to the Ballard mansion.
As expected, when Annie and Shaw drove to the designated location that afternoon, they found nothing. Just an empty picnic table, a deserted dirt parking lot and a myriad of tire tracks that could have been left by any number of cars. It was then Shaw told Abby he intended to take a closer look at the Ballard mansion. From the inside. He wanted to go alone but Annie had insisted that she was coming with him.
Shaw called Rudy Kerber. Kerber said that
there was still no word from Abby. Her cell phone was still turned off which meant the police couldn’t trace its location.
Shaw was going to take matters into his own hands. There were simply too many unanswered questions. The police seemed to be doing nothing. Abby’s mother didn’t seem too concerned, and the only person showed any concern was Kerber. Like Shaw, Kerber said he had a gut feeling that something ominous was going to happen.
When it was dark enough, Annie led Shaw on foot along the same trail she had previously taken through the forest and up to the clifftop. They emerged at the edge of the tree line with the Ballard mansion ahead. It was in total darkness. The moonlight painted shadows across the grounds and the outer wall sat imposingly. They checked the wrought iron gate and the padlock was still firmly in place.
“Which way do you want to go?” Annie asked as they huddled in the darkness next to the wall. Shaw thought for a moment, visualizing the layout of the property from yesterday. “At the back,” Shaw whispered. “Where I believe there is a swimming pool. There may be a patio door there. They’re easier to force open.”
They made their way around to the rear of the property. Shaw scaled the wall first then pulled Annie up. He lowered her on the other side before climbing back down himself. “That wasn’t too hard,” Annie said as they crouched behind a line of shrubs on the other side. There was the rectangular shape of a swimming pool, the moonlight shimmering on its surface. There was a scatter of pool furniture, sun lounges and large pots with palms. Everything was in darkness. No sign of anyone home.
Shaw spotted a large sliding door at the rear of the house next to a large octagonal conservatory made of glass and timber. He was about to head towards the sliding door when Annie grabbed his arm. “What about the person we saw?” Annie held him back with her hand. “He could be inside.”
Shaw turned and faced Annie. “That’s what I’m hoping for.” Shaw parted the shrubbery and was gone.
