by B J Richards
Having said good-bye to Dickson, they headed down the hall as couples, hand-in-hand. Sandra and Josh were quiet at this point, trailing slightly behind Nathaniel and Josephine, exchanging the occasional side-ways glance and smiling.
Looking over at Josephine, Nathaniel playfully continued their conversation from the office. "Hey babe, I'm thinking I want to check out Dorson and see if there's anything there to find."
"This afternoon? Hmm… then, I'm definitely coming with."
"Alright then. Consider it our Sunday afternoon road trip date."
Josephine turned her head and looked at Sandra behind her. Sandra was quietly chatting with Josh, feeling happier than she’d felt in years.
“Hey guys… you want to come with?”
Josh looked over at Sandra. “What do you think, Sandy? Do you want to go along? Or maybe head to the movies and catch a matinee?”
Sandra thought quietly for a second, then replied directly to Josephine. “Thanks for the invite, Jo. But I think I need some time off from this whole thing. Maybe a movie is the perfect thing to get my mind off all this and just chill for a couple of hours.”
“I get it,” Josephine replied. “You two go have some fun and give yourselves a break. I’m going to accompany my man here, and make sure he stays out of trouble.”
***
An hour and a half later, Nathaniel and Josephine were driving by the “Welcome to Dorson” sign as they headed into the small town. Josh was right. Dorson was quiet compared to Billamore. The town was inland, unlike Billamore with an active shipping port. And it didn’t have the tourist draw Billamore had, either.
The first thing Nathaniel did was check his GPS and head to the police station where he pull into the first empty space in front. The station was a small red-brick building, well kept, with green hedges across the front and two large glass doors at the entry.
Walking up to the front desk with Josephine at his side, Nathaniel smiled and flashed his badge to the attending officer. "I'm Detective Murphy with the Billamore PD. I was hoping to get information about the Carrigan family in this town."
"Exactly what information are you looking for?" the officer asked as he ushered them in.
"Whatever you can find," Nathaniel replied.
"Well, presently there's Nancy Carrigan and her son Daniel Carrigan. Although Daniel seems to spend most of his time out of town anymore… especially this last year. He comes and goes. You know how they are, being the son of a single mother and all. His father died pretty young."
Nathaniel could tell the officer was new at the job, but he did seem to know quite a bit about the town residents. That was to be expected in a town this size. And being the only one at the precinct on a Sunday afternoon was making him extra chatty.
"Can you perhaps check for the year the Carrigans moved to Dorson?" Josephine asked.
"The Carrigans have been here since forever ma'am. It's a shame that tragedy has befallen some members of the family. But their ancestor, Benjamin Carrigan, was an artist. He painted some fine paintings that still hang in the Town Hall. I can search the computer for records if you give me a minute." The officer showed them to a desk and motioned for them to sit down, while he accessed the database on the computer.
"It says here that Bartholomew Carrigan, settled here in 1849 with his wife Claire. They had two sons, Benjamin and Edward. Then it lists a number of generations after that. Anyway, the only Carrigans left are a nurse, Nancy and her son, Daniel. He’s had a few run-ins with the law and we’re kind of glad he's been out of town a lot." The officer kept working on the computer for a minute, then showed them Daniel’s mug shot. He had dishwater-blonde hair, appeared to be in his thirties, and had two different eye colors, one green and one blue.
Nathaniel felt a bit jolted as he stared at Daniel’s photo. "What town has Daniel been visiting lately?" he asked the officer.
"I don't really know. I heard he’s been visiting one of the port towns around here. Come to think of it, I think it's your town, Detective. Billamore is the only town with a port that's remotely close."
CHAPTER NINE
“Thirsty, Dickson?” Sandra passed Dickson a soda as they sat watching the monitors in her office. She was taking a lunch break and had asked him to rewind the footage from yesterday, just to make sure she didn’t miss anything when she’d left to go to the movies with Josh.
While watching nothing happen on the monitors, she made a mental note to stop by and see Nathaniel after she got off work. He’d called last night saying he found out that Annabel's other twin boy had been adopted by a Carrigan family and there was a descendant left that could be in Billamore.
"So, what does that mean? Do you want a reunion or something?" she'd asked Nate.
"Nah. He looks like a trouble maker. He's had a few run-ins with the law and I'm just not interested. I've satisfied my curiosity and that's that."
Just thinking of what the twins must’ve gone through left an empty feeling inside of Sandra. Their mother being murdered as soon as they were born. Then being separated at birth and growing up with no idea who their natural parents were and what their true birthright was. And now, over a century later, the descendant of one twin learning the identity of the descendant of the other twin, and wanting nothing to do with him.
Sandra hoped to persuade Nathaniel to change his mind. If it were her, she’d want to meet the relative she shared DNA with, regardless of the rumors. Maybe Nathaniel’s relative was just misunderstood? And bad apple or not, in her mind, they were still family.
"Anything?" Sandra asked Dickson returning her attention to the monitored footage.
Dickson just shook his head. He was used to stake-outs and knew how long these things could take. "It's awfully quiet here today, " Dickson said as he took a sip from his soda.
"Some Mondays are like that. It usually picks up as the week goes on, " Sandra noted half-heartedly. They were still talking when Sandra noticed a man walk into the museum from her open office door. He had a slight limp and seemed to be looking for something in particular. But it was hard to tell for sure since he was wearing a baseball cap that partly obscured his face. It was summer and most of the male tourists wore caps to shield their eyes from the sun.
"Duty calls," Sandra said to Dickson and went to attend to the visitor.
"Hi, I'm Sandra Peterson, the Curator here,” she said. “How can I help you?"
As soon as he heard her name, a wry grin came up on his face. "I'm just looking around a bit," he finally said, then turned his back and started meandering into the next gallery.
Sandra watched him as he walked away. There was something familiar about him, she just didn’t know what. He would pause from time to time, and look her way with side glances that made her feel oddly uncomfortable.
Finally, she walked over to the man. In an attempt to make conversation and satisfy her curiosity, she asked, "Do I know you? Did we meet at the museum gala perhaps?"
His eyes widened for a second and he shifted uneasily from foot to foot. "I don't think so, lady. I best get on my way."
Sandra watched as he limped out of the museum. There was something about the gruffness in his voice and the way he moved. She knew she’d seen him somewhere before. But where?
Walking back to her office, it hit her. The whole tunnel event started pouring through her in flashes. The memory of laying on the cold earthen floor, afraid it was her last day on earth. The pain pounding in her head so powerful it stopped her from moving and crawling out of there.
How she’d found a nail in the dirt and stabbed him in the leg causing him to scream and limp, so he’d kicked her in the ribs and called her a “dumb bitch.” That voice… she kept hearing him calling her “dumb bitch” over and over in her head.
She’d just made it back to her office and walked around the side of the desk when she grabbed it to steady herself. The memories were making her nauseous and dizzy.
Dickson jumped up and grabbed her just as she was wobb
ling off balance. "Are you okay? You look like you’re about to go into shock," he said as he helped her sit down in her office chair.
"I probably am. I just saw one of my assailants from the tunnel," Sandra said in a hollow voice not her own. "I remember now. I remember everything."
***
"Tell me exactly what you remember," Nathaniel said an hour later after Sandra had recovered and driven to the precinct. Dickson told her she had to go make a statement. In the meantime, he was going to pull the feed from the lobby security camera at the museum.
"I was walking down the tunnel. I heard the sound of digging, and before I knew it, I was blinded by a flashlight and falling to the ground."
"Do you remember any physical traits or unusual characteristics? Even little things could be useful to us." Nathaniel could tell she was still shaken up and gave her hand a reassuring pat.
"It was dark in the tunnel but I could tell one of them had dark scraggly hair. And the other one was bald. That’s the one I saw today, but today he had on a cap."
"Okay, cool." Nathaniel said and stopped the tape in the interrogation room. "There's a sketch artist waiting in the hall, so any details you give him will help point us to the guy we’re looking for. While you do that, I’ll check with Dickson and see if he was able to get anything off the lobby security camera at the museum.”
Sandra nodded. "So, you don't think they'll come back to the tunnel and try to finish digging up the chest? I mean now that he thinks I might’ve recognized him?"
"Oh, I think they will. It's too much of a prize to pass up. Besides, I think that guy is just a pawn… like Anthony Foley. Whoever the mastermind is, he’s still behind the scene, and he's waited too long to let the Billamore fortune slip through his fingers now."
"I don't know if that's relieving or not," Sandra half snapped.
Nathaniel just grinned. "Do you feel relieved now that you remember?”
Sandra’s eyes were blazing. "Not really. What I feel most is anger. I want those bastards caught."
Nathaniel nodded. "Me too."
***
"The museum is quiet boss. No tourists, no cops around. I didn't see that detective guy either. Just the Curator," Fred said into the burner phone Daniel had given him months ago.
"Are you sure? I heard that detective guy is still sniffing around where his nose don't belong."
"I'm sure boss. We can get it now, before the museum gets busy again."
"And you’re sure the curator didn’t recognize you?”
"She didn't know it was me. And she looked right at me, too," Fred replied in a seething voice. He’d hated seeing her face, all smiles like nothing had happened. He wanted to cut her open for pay back after what she’d done to him. Something he was reminded of every time he took a step. What was worse, he hated he couldn’t touch her. If he did he’d blow the chance they’d been waiting for, and that was too big a risk.
Another time, he promised himself. When he had all the riches he’d been dreaming about. He’d pay her house a visit again and this time he’d make sure her security system didn’t stop him.
"Alright then. It's a go," Daniel agreed and the line went dead.
CHAPTER TEN
"Boss says it's a go," Fred announced to Toby as he turned the corner toward the museum.
"What about the police tape at the tunnel entrance?" Toby asked as he squinted against the sun's reflection. He could feel his palms getting sweaty, but it was too late to back out now. He could almost smell the money he would get out of this, but he hated doing day jobs. He’d come to like the night work. The darkness felt like a secure cloak around him… made him feel like he was invisible and could get away with anything. Except the night the curator walked into the tunnel of course, but at least she didn't remember him.
"Don’t worry about the police tapes. I can’t believe some stupid kid was using the place for drugs and I didn't find them. I could’ve made myself a fortune. No worries now. Something tells me we’ll be rich by sun down."
They parked on the street just down from the museum and skirted the perimeter on foot, making sure they stayed out of sight. When the security guard was busy with one of the tourists, they veered off in the direction of the tunnel, making sure to stay unnoticed. Walking up to the tunnel, they ducked in past the police tape. Aside from the hole the police had dug to get the drugs out, the tunnel looked exactly the same: quiet, dark and damp.
"Man, I do not miss this place," Toby said in a low voice, glancing furtively around to make sure no one was watching them.
"It's not about the place, it's what's in it," Fred retorted as he dropped the bag he’d brought along. The boss said they'd need something to carry the loot in. He was curious to see what was in that damn hole and perhaps keep something for himself before he delivered the goods. “So I suggest we get digging."
"I don't think we’ll need to dig too much. The last time I could see the outline of something… I think it was a chest. We just need to finish pulling out a few stones and bricks is all," Toby said and started in.
"Huh. I don't remember it being this easy. I thought there was more digging to do," Toby continued as he finished pulling out the last stones and bricks. The hole was completely uncovered now and he shone his light into the opened hole.
“It is a chest! It’s some kinda treasure chest!” Toby exclaimed.
Fred rushed over and pushed him out of the way, shining his own light into the hole. “We gotta pull it out. You grab from that side and I’ll grab from this one.”
“Easy does it. Don’t drop the damn thing,” Fred grumbled at Toby. His mind was already filling with what he could only imagine lay inside.
Setting the chest down on the ground, Fred pushed Toby aside. He tried to pry it open but the chest wouldn't budge.
“Damn it… it’s locked!” He hit the chest in frustration. His plan of swiping a piece of whatever was in there had reached a deadlock. "Son of a bitch must have the key. I guess we'll have to take the chest to him to get our share."
***
Dickson came back from refilling his cup of coffee to see movement in the camera feeds. He quickly set the coffee aside and zoomed on the image to see two men approaching the tunnel. One of them looked like the sketched picture Nathaniel had just emailed him.
He quickly grabbed his phone and dialed Nathaniel's number. "We’ve got visitors, Murphy. They just walked into the tunnel.”
"I'm on my way!" Nathaniel jumped up and headed to the car.
Dickson could hear Sandra's voice in the background. She was still at the police station after giving her statement and working with the sketch artist. He’d been unsuccessful at getting a clear face shot of the day’s earlier visitor off the museum security camera.
"I’ll let the plain-clothes guys know and send them around to the tunnel entrance to meet you there. They can back us up. Better safe than sorry. The perps came through the tunnel, but we can't be sure what their exit route will be. Especially since one of them was in here casing the joint earlier today," Dickson said as he pulled out his gun and walked toward the museum basement.
“Sounds good. I'll get extra back-up to cover the museum entrances and parking lot," Nathaniel said and paused to give some other officers orders. “We’ll be there in two minutes. Let today be our lucky day," he said and hung up.
***
Dickson pocketed his phone and entered the passageway from the alcove, walking quietly in the direction of the digging, keeping his flashlight low. It wasn’t long until he’d covered enough ground he could hear them talking about the lock on the chest. So far, so good. They had no idea he was there.
His gun at the ready, he stepped out into the digging area, the wet ground beneath his feet giving his position away. At the first crunch, Fred turned in his direction, eyes wide in disbelief. Toby was too enamored with the chest to pick up on what had just happened.
"Freeze," Dickson commanded. Shocked, Toby started fumbling for his pocket. "Put your ha
nds where I can see them or I swear to God, you'll be kissing mother earth goodbye today." Toby slowly lifted his hands into the air with a smug smile on his face, his dark greasy hair falling into his eyes.
"Are we trespassing, officer?" Fred said, a brassy edge to his voice, the sweat beading up on his bald head.
Dickson knew from experience any time a criminal was being a smart mouth, they had something up their sleeve. He took a quick glance down the tunnel. He knew the two men could jump him if he didn't get back up soon.
“Step back away from the chest,” Dickson ordered and moved in closer to make sure they didn’t have any weapon bulges he couldn’t see from where he stood in the dark. His vision was limited with his flashlight and he needed to be sure.
The minute he started to move in close, Fred reached out and threw sand in his face, and both of them tackled him to the ground, knocking the wind out of him.
It took Dickson some seconds before he got his stability back and cleared the debris from his eyes. They had the chest and were running toward the tunnel entrance, but the chest was weighing them down.
Dickson ran after them and caught up just in time to see Nathaniel and the other officers tackle them at the tunnel entrance.
"You alright, Murph?" he asked catching his breath and helping Nathaniel cuff the thugs.
Nathaniel just smiled. "I am now."
CHAPTER ELEVEN
"As you know, we found two sets of prints at the basement murder scene we couldn’t identify. Of the two perps you brought in from the tunnel, only one of them is a match,” Greg told Nathaniel as he got out of the interrogation room. Greg was one of the best forensic lab techs the police had.
"Which one of them?"
"Frederick Thompson. The other print is unaccounted for. It isn't Toby Grant's. There's still someone out there, Detective," Greg said.
Nathaniel nodded. He’d been trying to get the men to talk, but no one would. Whoever they were working for, they seemed more afraid of him than the idea of spending the rest of their lives in prison.
