A Haunted Twist of Fate (24 page)

“The truth about what?”

Shay pulled into Colt’s driveway and shifted the
vehicle into park. “About why Alicia was interred before he and Bonnie could
get to Chicago. That seems unethical to me. It rings of a cover up.”

Colt shifted in his seat to face her. “Who would want
to cover up Alicia’s death? She was just a young girl who’d run away from home
to be with the guy she loved.”

“I don’t know, but I’m sure going to try to find
out. For Frank’s sake.”

“You like the old man,” Colt said, grasping her
hand.

“Yes, I do. He’s suffered so much. He deserves to
know the truth, whatever that might be.”

“I’ll help if I can.”

“You will?”

“Yes. Whatever you need, you can count on me.”

“Thank you, Colt.”

When he leaned in and placed a soft kiss on her
lips, she didn’t resist this time.

Thirty-Eight

Colt sat at his desk the next morning with the
letter addressed to Frank and Bonnie Averill lying open in front of him.
Something about Frank’s story had been nagging at him. Mostly he’d been
thinking about the city in which Alicia apparently died, and the year she was
killed. The date on the letter was 1977, thirty-three years ago. Shay had been
born thirty-three years ago and raised in Illinois. Was it another twist of
fate?

He picked up the phone and punched in the number for
the Chicago police department that was printed at the top of the stationery. Chances
were Police Chief McGinty was long retired, but maybe someone would know how to
get in touch with him. Colt had a few questions that he suspected only the
chief could answer.

A deep, raspy female voice answered. “Chicago PD. How
can I help you?”

“Chief McGinty, please.”

“The chief’s name is Halloran, sir. Do you want me
to connect you to his office?”

“No,” Colt said. “I’m trying to reach Trevor
McGinty.”

There was a pause on the other end of the line.
“There’s no Trevor McGinty here, sir. We have a Detective Terry McGinty. Want
me to ring his desk?”

“Yes. Thank you.”

Colt tapped the tip of a pencil on the desktop as he
waited for the call to go through. Terry, no doubt, was related to Trevor. Colt
wondered if he’d cooperate and tell him how he could reach his father, or
grandfather, or whoever the chief was to him.

“Officer Howard.”

Colt stopped tapping. “I’m trying to reach Officer
Terry McGinty. Someone at the front desk was connecting me.”

“Hold on.” Colt heard the man shout, “McGinty! Pick
up the phone.”

There was a lot of background noise, voices, and
then a click. Had he been disconnected?
Hell.
He was about to hang up
and call back when a voice said, “Terry McGinty.”

Cole put down the pencil and straightened his back. “Hello,
Detective. My name is Colt Morgan and I’m calling from South Dakota.”

“Yeah? What can I do for you?”

“I’m in possession of a letter written by Police
Chief Trevor McGinty back in 1977. I’m trying to reach the chief to ask him
some questions about a case he worked that year involving the daughter of a
friend of mine. Are you related to him, by any chance?”

“Trevor’s my uncle. What’d you say your name was
again?”

“Colton Morgan.” He felt his gut jump. Maybe he was
closer than he imagined to helping Shay get to the bottom of the mystery
surrounding Alicia Averill and learn how, or if, there was some connection to
her and the Averills.

“It’s very important that I speak to Chief McGinty,”
he said, keeping his voice calm and controlled. “Do you know how I might be
able to get in touch with him?”

“I’m sorry, Mr. Morgan, but that’s not possible. My uncle’s
been dead for ten years.

The air whooshed from Colt’s lungs.
Damn
. The
secret involving Alicia had probably been buried with McGinty.

“Sorry I couldn’t be of more help,” the detective
said.

Colt thought fast. “Maybe you still can be of help,
Detective. Would you have access to the files your uncle worked on thirty-three
years ago?”

The man chuckled. “No, sir. Those would be stored in
a warehouse downtown. That was way before computers, you know. It’d take a
miracle to dig through all the records, let alone find the boxes holding the
file for the particular case you’re inquiring about. I’m sorry, but it would be
almost impossible to locate, even if we had the manpower to conduct a search
for you, which we don’t.”

Sighing, Colt was about to thank the detective and
acquiesce to the fact that they might never know the true circumstances
surrounding Alicia Averill’s life and death in Chicago, when an idea struck
him. He might be grasping at straws, but he couldn’t give up without trying all
avenues. A strong feeling hinted that Shay settling in South Dakota had been
more than happenstance.

“Detective, my friend was told, back in 1977, by
your uncle, that there were some people who often paid for funerals of deceased
individuals who were in unfortunate circumstances or without family to pay for
their funeral. Would anyone in the department or your family know anything about
that?”

McGinty said, “Hmmm. It’s odd that you should
mention that.”

“Odd? Why?”

“I recently heard my aunt talking about a couple who
have been doing that very thing for many years here in Chicago. I was at my
cousin’s kid’s birthday party when I heard her discussing some newspaper
article with relatives.”

Colt’s leg started to jump. “Your aunt?”

“Uncle Trevor’s widow. Aunt CeCe.”

“What, specifically, did your aunt say about this
couple? Do you remember?”

“Sure. She said it was a shame that the husband and
wife had both passed. That the community was certainly going to miss them. They’d
done so much for the homeless and the unfortunate through the years.”

Both had passed. That was another disappointing
blow. Colt had thought he’d be able to contact them and ask more questions. He
held his head in his hands. How would he ever learn why Alicia Averill had been
buried so fast and before her parents had even been contacted about her death? None
of this set right with him.

He pumped his fist in an attempt to relieve nervous
tension. He was almost afraid to ask the next question. It might not matter
anyway, but he needed the satisfaction of an answer.

“Detective McGinty, did your aunt mention the name
of these civic-oriented people, by any chance?”

“She might have, but I left the room while the
conversation was still going on. I’d only gone into the house to get more
beer.”

Pounding his fist on the desk, Colt swore under his
breath.
Dammit!
Why couldn’t anything be easy? There had to be another
way to find out who those good Samaritans were. His mind raced.

“Mr. Morgan.”

Having forgotten he was still hanging on the phone,
Colt heard McGinty in his ear and wondered if he’d heard him cuss.

“Sorry, Detective. I was distracted for a moment.”

“No problem. Look. If it’s that important to you, I
can call up my aunt and ask her the names of those people. Give me your phone
number and I’ll call you back.”

That was easy. Why hadn’t he thought of that? Colt
gave him his cell phone number and thanked the detective.

“I’ll be in touch soon,” McGinty promised.

“This is going to be a big help. I appreciate it.”

As soon as Colt hung up, he dialed Shay.  After five
rings, the phone went to voice mail. He left a message, glanced at his watch,
and locked up the office to head to an appointment.

Thirty-Nine

Shay had just finished her coffee when someone
pounded on the front door. Who’d be calling so early? Shay felt her mouth drop
open when she flung the door open. The visitor on the other side was completely
unexpected.

“Dawn! It’s nice to see you again.”

Brady’s fiancé didn’t look happy. In fact, her eyes
were puffy and red, like she’d been crying. “Hi, Shay. Hope you don’t mind that
I stopped by.”

“Of course I don’t. Please come in.” She welcomed
Dawn inside and asked if she cared for a glass of water or juice, knowing caffeine
wasn’t good for a baby.

“I sure could use a beer,” Dawn said.

Shay wondered if she was joking and was relieved
when Dawn patted her stomach and smiled. “I’m just teasing. I know I can’t
drink with the baby coming, especially at this hour of the morning, but I
really
could
use a beer.”

“Couldn’t we all?” Shay joked back. “Please have a
seat.” She scooted out a chair.

“Thanks.” Dawn sniffled and sat. “You’re probably
wondering why I’m here.”

“Well, you look to be upset. Do you want to talk?”

“Yeah. I guess I do. I liked you right off when we
met at Brady’s birthday party. You’re so different from me. You’re from the big
city and have traveled all over the country. The farthest I’ve been is to
Deadwood.” She looked around the room. “You bought this saloon on your own? I
could never do something like that. I wouldn’t know how to begin.  And I don’t
have the money.”

Shay wasn’t sure what to say, so she said nothing;
just smiled.

“It’s cool you’re dating Colt. He’s a good guy.”  It
was obvious that Dawn was creating small talk.

“We’re not exactly dating,” Shay said, not feeling
the need to explain further. She could tell Dawn was stalling to avoid
discussing why she was there.

Shay hadn’t spent enough time with the woman to
develop much of an opinion of her, but she didn’t want to hurt her feelings. She’d
only learned a few things about Dawn’s life on the night of the party. She
remembered thinking that Dawn hadn’t seemed interested in making a new friend,
and she also hadn’t acted concerned about making a good impression on Mr. and
Mrs. Morgan. She’d barely strayed from Brady’s side all evening and cracked her
gum like a rude teenager. But right now, she looked so young and sad and in
need of a friend that Shay couldn’t refuse the girl’s reaching out.

“Did you and Brady get into an argument?” she dared
to ask.

Dawn shook her head. “No. Brady’s so cool. We hardly
ever fight. He’s laid back about most things.”

“I got that impression.” If it wasn’t because of
trouble with Brady, then why was Dawn here?

She finally got to the point. “I came to you, Shay,
because you were nice to me the other night. I only have a couple of good
friends and they’ve never had this problem. Not to say that you have,” she
added quickly. “I don’t mean to imply…”

Dawn’s shoulders sagged, and Shay became even more
curious. She looked so lonely, so lost, staring at Shay with round, wet doe
eyes.

Shay patted her hand. “Why don’t you tell me what’s
wrong, and I’ll try my best to give you advice, if I’m able.”

Dawn lowered her gaze. “It’s about the baby.”

Shay inhaled slowly and a terrible thought occurred
to her.
Oh, no. Please don’t tell me this isn’t Brady’s baby.

Dawn’s eyes filled with tears. “This baby is…is…”

Shay had just said she’d help, but why did the girl
have to come to her with this information? She had enough of her own troubles
to worry about. She grabbed Dawn’s hand and blurted, “People make mistakes,
honey. If Brady’s willing to raise the child as his own, that’s all that
matters. No one else needs to know. I’ll keep your secret.”

Dawn sniffed again and tilted her head. “What do you
mean, you’ll keep my secret? What are you talking about?”

“Uh. Aren’t you trying to tell me that Brady isn’t
the father of your baby?”

“
What
?” Dawn’s eyes bulged. “What gave you
that
idea? I’m upset because I don’t think I can have this baby.”

“Pardon me?”

“I don’t know how to be a good mother. And I don’t
like getting fat either. Look!” She lifted her top to show how the button on
her jeans popped open. “I’m going to have to start wearing maternity clothes
any day now. I’m going to get as big as a barn!”

As Dawn began to sob, Shay stared, both relieved and
confused. She suspected Dawn was less worried about getting big and more
concerned about what kind of a parent she was going to be. And why wouldn’t she
be worried? It was a huge responsibility to bring life into the world. Giving
birth was only where it began. Raising a child to become a good human being was
the hard part.

Shay could picture Colt as a father. He came from
good stock. He’d teach his children the important things in life and give them
plenty of love. Shay’s parents had been great role models, too, which is why
she wanted children. Her mind wandered, moving forward into the future, where
she could imagine her and Colt and their little family living a fairytale life.