Walk Through the Valley

by Debbie Viguié

  Jeremiah was on the computer looking up everything he could about Henry White. After half an hour he concluded that the man was either a sincere visionary or an incredibly skillful manipulator. The whole premise of the man’s campaign was that California was in deep trouble and the problems that people had been skirting for years needed to be faced head-on if the state was going to recover and once again thrive. He further contended that no one could truly understand the problems of the people of the state without first having walked in their shoes.

  White’s subsequent walk across the state had garnered a ton of supporters and quite a few detractors who threw around the words “cheap stunt” as if by saying it often enough it would make it true.

  He had to give the man credit, though. He truly was walking the length of the entire state. He wasn’t even going in a perfectly straight line. There was some zigzagging so that he stepped foot in every county in the state. Most of his campaign team, including his wife, were driving between the speaking engagements and setting up before he got there and tearing down after he left. There were only a couple of staffers who were walking the entire way with him and they were documenting every mile with photos that had been blasted all over social media.

  Some of his supporters were walking with him, too. Most of them were just walking a few miles or a few days. There were many who would walk with him across their own county, and some events had turned into half-parade half-political march.

  The willingness to walk all those hundreds of miles took a dedication, focus and a purpose that seemed incompatible with the thought of him killing someone, particularly in so sloppy a way. A man like this was thoughtful, a planner who saw the big picture. Someone like that didn’t throw months of work away. It didn’t make sense.

  Add to that Cindy’s belief that the man was innocent and Jeremiah was starting to buy into that theory as well. Killing a girl in a woman’s room at a campaign stop and getting caught was sloppy and just didn’t fit with the picture he was beginning to get of the man.

  As much as he didn’t want to do it, he finally called Christopher.

  “Hello?” the other man answered, tension in his voice.

  “This is Jeremiah. You were at my house earlier.”

  “Yes, I know who you are.”

  No, you really don’t, he thought to himself.

  “Look, I believe that Henry White is innocent, and I’ll try to help you prove that under one condition.”

  “Anything,” Christopher said eagerly.

  “My involvement remains our little secret. I don’t want any dealings with the press.”

  “You have my word,” Christopher said.

  Jeremiah wasn’t sure how much value to give that, but at least it was a start.

  “Okay, I’ll be in touch,” he said before hanging up.

  Next he called Liam. The detective sounded tired when he answered.

  “Rough day?” Jeremiah asked sympathetically. He had a feeling it was Liam’s first time working on a case that was getting what was likely national attention at this point.

  “The worst.”

  “I’m about to make it either better or worse depending on your point of view.”

  “I can’t wait,” Liam said.

  Jeremiah was pretty sure the man had been going for sarcastic, but instead he just sounded exhausted.

  “Christopher has asked for me to help look into this whole mess. Both Cindy and I believe that Henry is innocent.”

  Liam sighed audibly. “Look, you can’t get involved.”

  “We’re already involved, remember? Besides, you’ll be needing to talk things over with someone since Mark is out of town. That reminds me, Cindy had to leave as well. Her brother was in an accident so she’s in Vegas at the moment.”

  “Great. She’s a key witness.”

  “She got the call, and had to drop everything to go. I’ll help you with whatever I can since she and I discussed things pretty thoroughly.”

  “I shouldn’t say yes to you helping.”

  “But you’re going to because Mark isn’t here and you don’t know who else you can safely talk to without worrying that your words are going to be leaked to the press.”

  “I’m not sure if I’m angrier at Mark for not being here or at you for knowing that’s what I’m worried about.”

  “Be angrier at Mark. He’s not here to defend himself. Besides, you and I have work to do.”

  “Okay,” Liam agreed. “We’ll blame Mark.”

  Mark woke slowly, feeling the sun warm on his face. When he finally opened his eyes he saw Traci standing at the window staring out at the ocean. She was wearing a white satin gown that clung to her in all the right places. She turned to look at him with a soft smile. Light haloed around her hair making her look like an angel.

  That’s what she was. She was his glorious, wonderful angel. Her smile widened and all the cares and heartache of the last year just seemed to slip away. He stood up and walked over to her. He wrapped his arms around her waist and she leaned back against his chest and together they stared out at the incredibly blue water.

  “Did you sleep okay?” he asked.

  “Yes. The bed was so soft. How did you sleep?”

  “Sounder than I’ve slept in a long time. I’m on vacation.”

  He had to admit that when Joseph planned a dream vacation the man knew what he was doing. Their room was actually a grass hut on their own pier jutting out into the crystalline waters. The smell of the ocean air and the sound of the waves had lulled him to sleep the night before and it had been a deep, dreamless sleep that refreshed body and soul.

  They stood that way for a few more minutes before Traci turned in his arms and kissed him. He smiled as she pulled away. “Are you ready for breakfast?”

  “Lead the way,” he told her.

  Twenty minutes later they entered the resort’s restaurant. They were in French Polynesia and the restaurant was very French. The maître d' had a French accent and quickly seated them at a table for two fronting the ocean.

  They had gotten in late the night before and had both just had a light dinner. Meals were included in their trip package and it was a rare treat to be able to scan the menu and know he could order whatever he wanted without having to worry about the price.

  “The crepes sound good,” Traci said as she perused the menu.

  “They do,” he agreed, as he closed his. He remembered ice cream being on the dessert menu last night, and that had given him an idea.

  A minute later their waiter had appeared to take their order.

  “I’d like the strawberry banana crepes with a side of bacon,” Traci said, surrendering her menu.

  “Excellent, and for you, monsieur?”

  “I’d like a banana split,” Mark said.

  Traci stared at him. “For breakfast?” she asked.

  He shrugged. “I’m on vacation.”

  “Very good, sir,” the waiter said with what Mark thought was an approving smile.

  The banana split was magnificent and as he savored every bite he reflected that yes, this was what being on vacation should feel like and taste like. Traci kept laughing at him as he savored his meal with an assortment of happy sounds.

  She was done eating before he was which was a first. Usually he was the one bolting down his food and barely tasting anything. He was going to have to thank Joseph for sending them somewhere that he could have a banana split for breakfast.

  The waiter led a well-dressed woman past their table and Traci grabbed Mark’s hand with a little gasp.

  “What is it?” he asked.

  “That woman, I know who she is!”

  He glanced over just as the waiter was pulling out a chair for the woman in question. She had wavy, red hair and pale skin with a hint of a tan. She dressed well enough to be a celebrity, but it was no one he could remember having seen before.

  “I don’t recognize her.”

  “It’s Elisa Roberts.”

  “Who?
”

  “She’s a famous romance novelist. I’ve read most of her books. I recognized her from the picture on the back cover of the last one.”

  “Do you want to go get her autograph?”

  Traci shook her head. “No, I’m sure she’s here on vacation and just wants to be left alone.”

  “Do you want me to go get her autograph?” he asked.

  “No! I’m good. Let’s just let the woman eat in peace.”

  “Okay,” he said, turning back to consume his last few spoonfuls of ice cream. He pushed the empty dish back at last with a contented sigh.

  He pretended he didn’t notice that Traci kept staring over at the writer. It was clear she did want an autograph; she was just too shy to ask for it. She didn’t go into introvert mode often, but when she did it was always adorable somehow.

  A couple of minutes later they left the restaurant and walked slowly back to their hut, fingers interlaced as they strolled. They began to walk down the long pier, and Traci leaned her head on his shoulder. “It’s so beautiful. I wish we could stay here forever.”

  Once inside their hut Traci walked over to a table and began leafing through the brochures. “What do we want to do today? Go sailing, snorkeling, explore the island?”

  “Actually I was thinking of grabbing a towel and having a nap on the beach,” he admitted.

  She raised an eyebrow. “A nap? You?”

  He shrugged. “I’m on vacation.”

  She smiled at him. “So you are. You know what, I think a nap on the beach sounds wonderful. Is there room on that towel for two?”

  “There’s even room for three,” he said, staring pointedly at her midsection.

  She flushed and smiled. “I guess it is the three of us now.”

  “And I couldn’t be happier about anything,” he said.

  Half an hour later they were wearing their bathing suits, had thoroughly applied sunscreen, and were laying out on the beach, soaking up the warmth. Mark had his eyes closed and he thought he might never open them again. There was only a handful of other people on the beach, but they were all so spread out it almost felt like they had their own private beach.

  He was going to have to thank Joseph for sending them somewhere they could just completely relax and let go of all their cares.

  Traci was reading a book, but he was just resting, letting go of all the stress and frustration of the last year. The whole mess with Paul, the weeks he had been suspended from the force, the stress of all the kidnappings, all of it. It was just as if it was all melting away beneath the tropical sun.

  As the frustrations of the past left him he found himself daydreaming about the future. They didn’t know yet whether they’d be having a girl or a boy, but either way was great with him. He couldn’t wait to be a father and Traci was going to make a terrific mother.

  When they got home there was so much to do to start preparing, but he vowed that from then on he would spend less time working and more time with his family. He smiled at the thought.

  For the moment, though, his only responsibility was to relax and have fun with his wife. He couldn’t think of anything better in the world. His mind began to drift and he was just about to fall asleep.

  Suddenly the warm air was split by a high, piercing scream.

  He sat upright, heart pounding.

  A moment later he heard a woman shriek, “He’s been murdered!”

  The other people on the beach got up and ran toward the sound. Traci swiveled her head to look and see what was happening. He forced himself to sit very still.

  A moment later Traci turned and looked at him, eyes full of concern. He just stayed put, forcing himself to breathe deeply.

  “Aren’t you going to go see what’s going on?

  He couldn’t help but think that he was not going to be thanking Joseph for sending them somewhere that someone was murdered.

  He shook his head. “I’m on vacation.”

  8

  Mark was in turmoil. Every instinct he had was screaming at him to go and find out what was happening. Being a cop wasn’t just a job, it was a lifestyle. You couldn’t just leave that part of you at work every day. That was one of the number one stresses of the job and it could take a toll on a marriage. He was lucky that he had the most understanding wife in the world, but he never wanted to take advantage of that. Traci deserved a husband who was one hundred percent focused on her when they were together.

  Besides, he was a tourist on vacation. This wasn’t his jurisdiction. It wasn’t even his country. If the positions were reversed the last thing he would want was an outsider meddling in his investigation no matter who they were. The best and smartest move was to let the locals handle it.

  “There are so few residents on this island,” Traci said softly. “Do you think the police have ever had to deal with a murder before?”

  “I’m sure they have,” he said, trying to reassure both of them. “And if not, they could always bring out someone from one of the other islands.”

  They weren’t on the most populous island, Tahiti, but were on Bora Bora which he’d read about briefly on the plane. The island had one-tenth the number of residents as their hometown.

  “I’m sure they don’t need my help,” he said.

  Traci eyed him intently. “Because someone who’s brought hundreds of murderers to justice has no skills that would be helpful in this situation.”

  “I’m on vacation,” he reiterated.

  “The Mark that I know wouldn’t be able to stand being so close to a mystery and not trying to solve it,” she said.

  He sighed. Whenever Traci wanted to prove a point and appeal to his better nature she always played The Mark that I Know card. How did he tell her that all the unsolved craziness in his life, much of it revolving around Paul, had burnt him out? Looking deep into her eyes he knew it was something he couldn’t tell her.

  “Okay, I’ll just go and see what happened,” he said.

  She gave him a dazzling smile as he stood up.

  It wasn’t difficult to figure out where all the commotion was since everyone who had been in the vicinity seemed to be flocking toward the nearest hut. People were crowded on the pier, craning their necks to see what was happening.

  A hotel employee, whom Mark guessed to be a manager from the way he carried himself, was trying to push his way through the crowd. Mark followed in his wake. Just outside the hut’s door, a bikini-clad woman in her early thirties was sobbing. She was probably the one who had screamed.

  Next to her was the writer that Traci had been staring at during breakfast. She had her arm around the crying woman and was making soothing noises. Her eyes, though, were roving over the scene, clearly taking in every detail.

  The manager moved past them to stand in the open doorway and look inside the hut. When he turned back a moment later he looked like he was going to be sick.

  Mark stepped up to him. “I’m a homicide detective here on vacation. I’ll help in whatever way I can.”

  “I’ve already called for the police,” the man said, eyes dazed. “What should I do?”

  “Get these people back off the pier before they contaminate the crime scene,” Mark said.

  The man nodded. “I can do that.” He turned to the crowd and lifted his arms. “Ladies and gentlemen, I need you all to move back onto the beach right now.”

  “Is someone really dead?” a woman asked.

  “What’s going on?” a man chimed in.

  “Please, we will know more later. For now, I need everyone to move before I have to call security to make you move. For your cooperation, mixed drinks at the Terrace will be free for the next half hour.”

  Mark had to hand it to the guy. He might be on the verge of losing his breakfast, but he knew how to disperse a crowd. They all turned and quickly headed for the bar and their free drinks.

  “Nice work,” Mark said quietly.

  The manager shrugged. “You’d be surprised what people will do to get somethin
g for free.”

  “I’ll have to remember that trick.”

  Mark turned and looked inside the hut. There, on the bed, was a man who looked to be in his late fifties. His face was bloated and blotchy looking. Mark scanned the area, looking for anything out of the ordinary. He didn’t want to disturb any evidence that might be present.

  He turned to the woman who was still crying in the writer’s arms.

  “Ma’am,” he said, gently tapping her on the shoulder.

  She straightened slowly, wiping at her eyes. “Yes?”

  “Can you tell me what happened here?”

  “My husband Milt and I came here to get away. He said it would be like a second honeymoon.”

  “How long have the two of you been married?”

  “Six years,” she said with a sniff.

  There was probably a twenty-year age gap or more between husband and wife, Mark realized.

  “He’d been real stressed out lately. Things had been rough at work. He started talking about people being out to get him. He even got a threatening letter at home one day, but he wouldn’t talk to me about it,” she said, dabbing at her eyes.

  “Then he sprung this vacation on me. It was so spur-of-the-moment that it took my breath away. I didn’t realize at that point that he was just trying to get away from...from...all the trouble.”

  “And what happened today?”

  “After brunch we came back to the room. I wanted to go for a swim and he wanted to take a nap. He works such long, terrible hours that just napping is his favorite thing to do on vacation,” she said with a sniffle. “I got changed and he was on the bed when I left. Then...when I came back...I found...found him...like that!” she ended with a wail.

  “What did your husband do for a living?”

  “He worked on Wall Street, financial investments.”

  “Did he say who “they” were, the ones out to get him?”

  She shook her head. “No. I knew there was trouble at work, but he’d never say who or what. He’d just tell me not to worry my pretty little head about it.”