A Haunting Dream (A Missing Pieces Mystery) (16 page)

After ducking under the tape, I entered through the back door and walked through the house, ignoring the mess this time. The police and FBI had made it even worse. I tried not to look too long at Chuck’s personal items strewn about. I didn’t want him showing up dead again.

I let my instinct guide me to a pink teddy bear with a black bow tie that I found outside Betsy’s room. Half of his body was torn away (what kind of person does something like that?), but I could feel her on him. It was a strong connection. I knew she loved him and had frequently held him close.

I sat down on her small bed and clutched the bear tightly to me. Instantly a deep, bitter cold swept through me. I heard the sound of water dripping again—and Betsy’s voice.

“Please. If you let me out, I’ll be very good. I won’t say a word. Please don’t leave me here alone again.”

A voice said something in return, but it was muffled, incoherent. I couldn’t tell whether a man or a woman had spoken.

“No! Please don’t leave. I can be good.”

But despite her appeals to the visitor I couldn’t see or understand, she was left alone. There was another sound—wood against wood? A tree branch scraping? I wasn’t sure. Maybe it was just a door closing.

Betsy was crying. I tried to find her in the dark but couldn’t. I called her name, but this time, it seemed she couldn’t hear me. The only thing I could do, until this vision came to an end, was focus on the area around me.

The floor wasn’t smooth and even, like concrete. It was bumpy. There were patches where something was sticking up. It wasn’t sand, as it had appeared in the other vision. I reached out to try and touch the walls. They were rough, with what felt like gaping holes. Not large enough for a child to climb through, but openings nonetheless.

I reached my palms against the flat ceiling above me. It was just inches above my head. It was rough too, with a few holes in it. These were jagged, not like they had been cut, but gouged.

There was a distinct smell of old wood and the ocean. It was very strong—maybe on the beach?

The vision was over as suddenly as it had begun. I was sitting on the bed again with the ripped-up pink teddy bear. Beside me was dead Chuck. I jumped up and ran to the door.

“Help her,” he said again.

I left the bedroom. I had nothing to say to him. I was doing the best I could. But wherever Guthrie had Betsy stashed, it wasn’t easy to define or locate.

I
knew
Betsy was still alive, though. Let Ann think she was dead, if she wanted. I
knew
better. What I didn’t know was what to do with that information. I didn’t want to hurt the investigation by trying to find her myself, but I’d brought some good leads to the table. I knew I could be of use.

The chief was worried that the FBI would pull out. I couldn’t be sure Betsy was in Duck either, as he’d said. We didn’t have the resources to go all over the Outer Banks looking for her. It was hard to decide what to do.

Kevin, even working with Ann, might still be my best shot, although I wished that wasn’t the case.

I wondered again why Guthrie was keeping the girl alive. He hadn’t asked for anything in return—didn’t seem to plan on giving her back. But what
was
he planning?

Maybe if I could figure out why Dillon Guthrie had killed Chuck, I might gain some insight into why he’d taken and was still holding Betsy. It seemed like the best way to start that process would be to break in on Port’s dinner with Trudy. Whether he realized it or not (and I hoped he didn’t), Port was involved with what had happened to Chuck and his daughter.

Three might not be company, but it might help find Chuck’s killer.

Chapter 18

I
’d seen enough murder mysteries on TV and heard
enough stories from Gramps that I thought I understood how the connection between Chuck and Guthrie had originated.

Chuck’s bank statement showed that he was getting extra money from somewhere. Guthrie was a smuggler—it stood to reason that Chuck was working for him.

Chuck was under a lot of financial stress. His ex-wife was between jobs. He had to take care of Betsy by himself. His business was already failing after a terrible real estate scandal that had driven most local people away. He needed money like never before and was desperate enough to consider doing something illegal.

But something had gone wrong between Chuck and Guthrie, as happens many times in this type of relationship. Guthrie had killed Chuck. I had no doubt about that—despite Guthrie’s top-dog status, which seemed to make the FBI afraid to question him. Then Guthrie had taken Betsy.

How is Port involved?

That was the part I couldn’t figure. I’d have to spend more time with Port if I was going to answer that question. A handshake wasn’t going to do it. I needed prolonged contact with him or to hold something that belonged to him. I had no idea how I was going to manage either one.

I took Betsy’s teddy bear with me, hiding it in a paper bag in case I ran into some law enforcement official ready to accuse me of taking things from the scene of a crime.

I also picked up Chuck’s electric razor—my hand protected by a glove I’d begun carrying around in my pocketbook. The razor would be close and personal to him. I might need that too if contact with Port didn’t work out.

Beyond my not-well-thought-out plan to glean information from Port, I was as clueless as the FBI. Why would a big-name smuggler who had killers on his staff (I felt sure I’d seen them in my dream) kill a lowly real estate broker?

It seemed to me—à la
Law & Order
—that Guthrie’s hands-on involvement indicated a personal motivation. Maybe it’d had nothing to do with business. Or maybe Guthrie had wanted to make an example of Chuck.

Betsy?

If she was with Chuck when he was killed, why wouldn’t Guthrie kill her too? That would make sense. Hanging on to her was stupid and dangerous for him. What if someone found her?

But maybe Guthrie didn’t kill children. Maybe he’d assigned one of his henchmen but the henchman couldn’t kill her. Maybe the henchman was like the huntsman in
Snow White
who couldn’t kill the pretty princess and instead had let her run away. In Betsy’s case, though, maybe the henchman had put Betsy someplace he felt she would be safe until he had a chance to let her go.

I didn’t dare express this theory to anyone else. I knew I’d be laughed into next week as soon as I mentioned
Snow White
. I knew it didn’t really make traditional police sense, but it was all I had—at least until I could get more (hopefully) from Port.

I walked the rest of the way back to my house with my purloined items safely tucked away. No one had tried to stop me or even noticed what I was doing. The FBI probably felt they’d gotten all the evidence they could from Chuck’s house.

Lucky for me. I really wasn’t up for another visit to the police station.

Just as I reached my house, Kevin’s pickup pulled next to me. “I’ve been calling you for a while. Where have you been?”

“Just out walking. I needed some space.”

“Betsy’s mother wants to talk to you. She trusts you. There might be something everyone else is missing that she could show you.”

I glanced at my watch. I had plenty of time to interrupt Trudy and Port’s dinner. Maybe talking to Melinda would help. “Okay. Let me put this in the house. I’ll be right out.”

As I walked away from the pickup, something caught my eye. It was as though a beam of sunlight was shining through a crack in the clouds, illuminating something unusual in Old Man Sweeney’s driveway.

Like a magpie, I couldn’t resist it. I had to see what it was. Probably nothing. A piece of gum wrapper or a dropped coin. But it
felt
like something important.

It was a matchbook—wet from the rain and slightly mangled. The name on the cover was “Sailor’s Dream,” the little bar and grill near the beach where my father worked. There was a bit of blue glitter on it.

I couldn’t be sure, but I doubted Old Man Sweeney frequented the place. As soon as I picked up the matchbook, I knew how it had come to be here.

Derek Johnson had dropped it in the driveway, probably when he was being arrested. The matchbook also revealed that Derek spent a lot of time at Sailor’s Dream—waiting to meet with Guthrie.

“What is it, Dae?” Kevin joined me in the driveway. “What did you find?”

I showed him. “Derek Johnson had it when he was arrested trying to reclaim Chuck’s medallion from Old Man Sweeney. That’s where this all started for me. When I touched the matchbook, I saw Derek waiting at Sailor’s Dream for Guthrie.”

“Dae—”

“What? We all know Johnson didn’t just see the sign for the medallion and decide to retrieve his lost property. He didn’t kill Chuck—that was Guthrie—whether the FBI believes it or not. Derek was probably just covering for Guthrie. They meet at the Sailor’s Dream. He works for him. If I go to Sailor’s Dream, maybe I can pick up on something else.”

“You can’t go alone,” he said. “These men are killers. You shouldn’t be there at all, but if you have to go, I’m going too.”

“You can’t go with me.” I pocketed the matchbook as I dismissed the idea. “They would know you were a Fed
a mile away.”

“I’m not a Fed anymore.” He laughed. “And you watch too many crime shows on TV. I can blend in as well as you can. Neither one of us needs any excuse to be there. Danny is your father and my friend.”

I considered his suggestion. He was right, of course. I’d probably
feel
safer being there with Kevin, whether I was or not.

“All right. We’ll go tonight. I want to talk to Melinda first, and then I have to meet a few friends at Wild Stallions. I’ll give you a call.”

I ran inside to put down the razor and the bear I’d taken from Chuck’s house. Actually, I hid them under my bed. I didn’t want to take any chances.

The black kitten started purring as soon as he saw me. He sat down on my foot, staring up at me in a dreamy way. Since I’d never had a pet, I wasn’t sure what to expect from one. I picked him up, and he snuggled into my hand. An incredible feeling of joy radiated from him.

“I bet you need some food,” I said to him. I brought him up close to my face and was lost in his bright eyes. “I don’t think there’s any cat food yet, but I’ll see what I can find.”

Gramps surprised me again by having cat food and a bowl in the kitchen for him. I put some food down, and the kitten jumped on it. Apparently Gramps had undergone a major change of heart while I’d been out and had decided the kitten was welcome after all.

I scratched the kitten behind one ear. “I guess Gramps likes you. That’s a good thing because you aren’t going anywhere else, are you?”

He made a tiny meowing sound and purred while he ate. I didn’t know anyone could feel this close to an animal.

I ran back out and got in the pickup with Kevin. There was very little traffic on Duck Road, which made for a quick trip to the Blue Whale. We talked the whole way about what we might find at the Sailor’s Dream later. Suddenly, the awkwardness between us was gone. It was just like old times.

Then Ann was waiting for us on the veranda. “I might have known you two would be together. It’s not just the little girl, is it, Kevin? You can’t stop thinking about Dae.”

“Let’s go somewhere private to discuss this,” he said.

“Never mind.” She sipped what smelled like a mint julep. “I know all of this has been a shock. You never expected me to come back and ruin the perfect little life you created with Mayor Smiley-face.”

“You’re drunk.” Kevin took her arm and pulled her out of the chair. “Let’s go inside.”

“Maybe I am drunk,” she agreed. “But I’ll bet you haven’t told her all about us, have you? She doesn’t know the things we’ve done together, what we meant to each other. Maybe she wouldn’t care so much about you if she knew.”

Ann reached out quickly and grabbed my hand. Her eyes were like cold steel tearing into my brain. I thought I screamed as thousands of images flooded into my brain. They packed in so fast that I couldn’t handle it. It was a massive overload. I couldn’t distinguish one image from another.

I thought Kevin broke us apart. When I looked at him, I saw him holding a gun, shooting a man who’d refused to surrender. Kevin didn’t know if the man meant to kill him or not. Ann consoled him after it was over. The images of the two of them in bed together burned into my mind. I squeezed my eyes tightly closed and let myself drift away.

When I came back to myself, Ann was gone. Kevin was sitting beside me on the bed in one of the inn’s rooms. I loved the lilac walls and the gossamer curtains, through which the sun shone bright every morning.

“Are you okay?” He took my hand. “Ann is
very
powerful. Even more so now. I didn’t realize—I’m sorry.”

“I’m fine.” I sat up. My brain felt like a piece of fiery mush, but I’d survived the attack. “You could’ve warned me.”

I said it, but I knew no warning could’ve prepared me for what Ann had just put me through. The idea of her attacking me with her thoughts and memories seemed too much like science fiction. I doubted I would’ve believed it was possible if I hadn’t lived through it.

“I’m sorry.” He got up and paced the room. “I thought maybe this would work—that she’d learn to love . . . Duck . . . like I have.”

“But she doesn’t.” I didn’t mind telling him about her visit to Missing Pieces now. “I don’t think she ever will.”

“I know.” He looked around the room that faced the ocean. I knew he was thinking about all the time he’d put into the Blue Whale, believing it was his new home. His eyes were wistful. “I think I should leave. Ann isn’t stable. I don’t know if she’ll ever be if we stay here. There’s too big a gap from where we were. For her, it’s like everything is still the same as it was when she went into the hospital. Nothing has changed. In her mind, the last few years never happened.”

I wanted to ask him to stay and we’d find a way to fix it. That was me—always looking for a way to make things right. But I didn’t speak. Intuition told me he was right. If he was going to stay with Ann, out of guilt or love, he’d have to live somewhere else.

It was one of the saddest moments of my life.

But I had to keep going. I couldn’t let this stop me from finding Betsy.

I pushed to my feet. I still felt shaky, but the active memories Ann had thrown at me were fading. They’d left behind a headache—and a distaste for Ann and Kevin’s love life—but otherwise, I knew I’d be fine. “I’m here. I guess I should talk to Melinda.”

“You should sit down for a while,” he suggested. “Let me get you some tea, and I’ll take you home later. Is chamomile okay?”

I said it was fine just so he’d leave. It wasn’t his fault Ann had attacked me, but what she’d shown me was too fresh for me not to be affected by it. I didn’t know if I could ever look at Kevin the same way again. Maybe that’s all she’d really meant to do.

I needed to find Melinda.

Talk to her.

And get out of there.

I waited until I was sure Kevin would be in the old iron-lace elevator, on his way to the kitchen, then I left the room.

It wasn’t hard to find Melinda. I saw her from an upstairs window, sitting on a bench in the back of the inn, staring at the ocean. I looked around carefully as I walked through the ballroom and out the back door. I didn’t see Ann anywhere.

I sat down next to Melinda on the bench. She turned toward me, her eyes red and swollen. “I wish there was something—
anything
—I could do to help. I feel so useless. My daughter, my baby, is out there somewhere. Maybe she’s still alive. Is anyone still looking for her?”

“Everyone is looking for her,” I reassured her. “We’ll find her.”

“I don’t think they’re going to find her. What was I thinking, leaving her here with Chuck? He’s always been irresponsible.”

“You were doing what you thought was right.” I took a deep breath to steady myself and push away from the mental abuse I’d suffered at Ann’s hands. “I may be able to help you find Betsy.”