Blood Ties (17 page)

He knew he was stalling. He hoped he wasn't making a mistake, but sometimes his need was so bad that
there was nothing for it but to take the chance and
come to the barn. He should have gotten rid of what
was in the box a long time ago, but he couldn't do it. It
was such a comfort, knowing his box was safe ... waiting for him ... knowing he could go to the barn and
open it whenever he wanted to.

Sometimes he had to leave the island, go to Easton
or Crisfield ... even as far as Baltimore. It was easier
to find what he needed in the city. It wasn't cheap, but
easy. Still, it wasn't the same. Not as good. Like the dif ference between fishing in another man's boat or
owning your own. Not the same at all.

He pushed the bone back into his pocket and wiggled the loose ladder rung. The smartest thing to do
would be to cut a new crossbar and nail it up solid. It
wouldn't do for him to fall and hurt himself, not this
morning when everything was going so well for him. If
he fell and broke a leg, he might lie here for days before anyone came looking for him. It was better if he
fixed the bad rung on the ladder before it was too late.
This was his place ... all his own. He had lots of memories here, mostly good ones but some not so good.

He liked things to be the same. He didn't like surprises, and he'd had one this morning, a big one.
He'd gone to the burial ground before first light and
found signs posted on the marsh path and the shoreline. NO TRESPASSING! They were large and yellow
with black lettering, official looking. At the bottom,
the signs read, Peter Elderson, Esq., Onicox Realty Group.
He hadn't realized they could do such a thing, but
now that the grave-robbing Dr. Knight was dead,
maybe everything was different. Maybe they could put
up signs. He wondered if the signs would keep people
away. It was hard to tell about people. Some listened to
reason, and others had to be brought to common
sense the hard way.

He gripped the worm-eaten ladder and tested it.
The wood creaked, but it felt strong enough to hold
him. He needed to get up there in the loft today. He
hadn't opened his tin box for a long time-too long.
Some nights his need was so bad, it made him sick. He
woke up in his bed sweating. Even the palms of his
hands sweated.

He wondered about that ... wondered if the sweating was a sign that he'd been healed ... if God had heard his prayers and forgiven him. If maybe ... after
so long, it was all right for him to remember. With the
sweating came an aching in his gut. He wanted to
open his box and hold his pictures, see the faces, but
he was so scared. He knew that it would be safer to
forget them, but that was something he'd never been
able to do. They meant too much to him.

He knew he was different. He'd always known that.
He never could understand why, and it troubled him.
He'd pondered on it, tried to think on why God created him like He had. His mother had told him that
everything he needed to know about living was in the
Good Book. He'd read her Bible from cover to cover
so many times that the pages were coming loose. He
couldn't say that he was a faithful churchgoer, but he
didn't believe that would matter to God in the end.
He'd never known a man or woman who didn't have
something to hide. Sometimes the worst people were
those sitting in the amen corner.

Anybody could make mistakes. According to what
he'd read of God's word, what mattered most was to
see your mistakes, repent, and ask forgiveness. The
Bible said that God was a loving father. God understood that men and women were weak. They might
stumble on the road of righteousness; that had been
the way since the creation of the world.

It said plain in the Bible that even Adam and Eve
disobeyed God in the Garden of Eden. They disobeyed God, but He still forgave them. If He forgave
them, He'll forgive me my weaknesses and my stumbles. After all, shouldn't He take some of the responsibility? He made me, didn't He?

And the boy had to share some of that blame. He
hadn't meant for it to happen. It was an accident, but
the boy had brought it on himself. He was clumsy and
stupid. The others were smarter. He should have had more sense. He'd been warned, but that's the way it is
with some boys. They need to be taught a good lesson.

He caught his breath as he climbed, but the ladder
held and he stepped safely onto the loft floor. Not
that these old boards were any too solid either, but at
least it was easier to see up here. The hinges had broken off the door at the far end where the hay lift was.
The opening let in plenty of light. It let in rain and
other stuff too. The loft smelled of musty hay and
dead pigeons.

He wondered how many outbuildings there were
like this on the island. Not many farmers left; lots of
barns and sheds going to ruin. It came of all this dealing with outsiders. He'd never think of living anyplace
else but Tawes. If a Garden of Eden existed on this
mortal earth, it was here.

He rubbed his hands on his pant legs. His palms
were sweating, and he couldn't risk ruining what
meant so much to him. The tin box was where he'd
left it, buried safe in the hay in a plastic box with an
airtight lid to keep out rain and damp. He knew better
than to be careless with his pictures. They were all he
had left of his little friends.

He pulled his T-shirt over his head, turned it inside
out, and dropped it on the moldy hay. Trickles of
sweat rolled down his face, but he paid it no mind. He
was breathing hard, not from the climb, but from the
anticipation of seeing their faces again. And then,
when he could wait no more, he opened the tin box.

Buck's cell phone vibrated and he took the call. "Abbie? Is that you? Is everything all right out there?"

"No. It isn't." She sounded upset. "Onicox Realty
has put up no trespassing signs all over the property. We
were asked to come here. I thought the prospective
buyers had agreed to the excavation. How could Oni cox change their minds without giving me the courtesy of a phone call?"

"You think they put them up in the night?"

"Your brother Harry says that they were up when he
arrived at six o'clock this morning."

"Is he there? Let me speak to him."

"Hey!" Harry's husky voice came over the line. His
little brother was nineteen and topping six feet, but it
was difficult for Buck to think of him as a man even if
he was starting college in September. "Just like she
said. It was posted when I got here."

"How'd you come? Boat?"

"Yeah. Bowman stayed until dark. Bastards must
have snuck in during the night. You hear anything
about why they did it?"

"No, I haven't."

"I've a mind to light a bonfire with these signs."

"Don't do that, Harry. I don't want to arrest my baby
brother for destruction of private property."

"You would, too."

"Wouldn't want to. But I can't play favorites. You
break the law, I have to come down hard on you."

"Not if you didn't know who burned the signs."

"Forget it. There's a legal way, and we'll find it. Put
Abbie back on."

"They stole my tent my tools," she said. "The
stakes have all been pulled up. Pit walls kicked in."

The signal wasn't great, and it was hard to hear her
clearly, but he got the gist of it. Harry and Bowman
had been taking turns watching over things for him
while Abbie was in Oklahoma. Until today, nothing
had been disturbed.

"Now do you believe me? Somebody's gone to a lot of
trouble to keep me from finishing the site evaluation."

"Why don't you let Harry bring you back in the
boat?"

"What? It's difficult to hear you."

"Come back to town with Harry. Let me see what I
can find out."

"This is not going to stop me, Buck. I swear to you-"

"We'll straighten this out. I promise."

His first call after ending the conversation with Abbie was to Emma. She didn't answer. His second was to
the parsonage. Apparently, Matthew wasn't home either. His third call connected with Forest McCready
on the fifth ring.

"We were told that the archaeological excavations
would not be disturbed," Forest said once Buck informed him of the situation. "Let me see what I can do
about this. What time is it? A little after eleven? I might
be able to catch a friend for lunch."

"Abbie Night Horse will want to know something
definite. It was all I could do to keep Harry from tearing down those signs. She claims that her tent and
equipment were stolen."

"I'll get back to you in a few hours. Keep the lid on
everything there until I do."

It was half past two when Forest rose from the corner
table at the King James Tavern and shook his lunch
companion's hand. "I appreciate the favor, Miles. With
your Eastern Shore roots, you're in a unique position
to understand what we're up against with Onicox."

"Glad to help. If there's anything else I can do,
don't hesitate to call. And when the rocks start biting,
don't forget me."

"Have I ever?"

The judge smiled. "My Livia isn't particularly fond
of seafood, but she makes an exception for rockfish,
especially the way our cook broils it with lemon."

"Give her my best."

"I'll do that."

Forest finished the pleasantries, left a generous cash
tip for the waitress, and picked up his briefcase. He
took time to greet associates, friends, and politicians
as he made his way slowly out of the crowded dockside
restaurant. The King James was a favorite watering
hole for lawmakers in Annapolis, and he often
thought more disputes were settled and alliances
formed there than in the statehouse a few blocks away.

Once outside, he strolled down the waterfront past
tourists and locals admiring the sailboats and feeding
the seagulls until he reached the Gone Fishing. He
stepped off the dock onto the deck, walked up to the
bridge, and punched in the number of the Tawes police department. "I have what we need," he said when
Buck picked up. "Signed by Judge Carver."

"Don't know him."

"Sure you do. Miles Carver. Tall black man. Distinguished. Wears glasses and walks with a limp. You went
tuna fishing with me and Miles three, maybe four
years ago, out of Ocean City."

"Oh, yeah. Good fisherman. Wasn't he in Desert
Storm?"

"Yes, that was where he lost his left leg from the knee
down. Good man. I called him right after I spoke to
Pete Elderson. Pete's Onicox's chief attorney. Not a
bad sort, but he moved here from Chicago. Highpowered city lawyer. It will take him a while to figure
out how we do things in Maryland."

"Did he give any reason for posting property they
haven't taken possession of?"

"Some nonsense about the Gilbert boy's drowning
and Dr. Knight's death. They were afraid that they
might be liable for any accidents out there. You know
how sue-happy people are today. I told him that I
doubted Onicox could be held responsible, but he
wasn't particularly open to my opinion."

"Did you ask about Abbie's tent and tools?"

"Elderson denied that his people removed anything
from the site. He said that if vandals had stolen or destroyed property, that was all the more reason it
should be off limits to the public."

"And that was when you reached out to judge
Carver?"

"I thought it was time to stop Onicox before they
started putting up barbed wire and sentry boxes. Miles
didn't take kindly to the loss of Miss Night Horse's
property."

"Neither do I. There hasn't been anything stolen on
Tawes since I've been here. At least, no one has come
forward to complain of theft."

Forest chuckled. "Not likely. Not on our island. We
wouldn't tolerate a thief among us."

Buck waited, knowing that Forest liked to spin out a
tale as well as the next man, but eventually he would
get to the point.

"Told Miles what I needed. We had lunch together,
and I got the paperwork." Forest glanced at his briefcase. "I imagine that Elderson will cry foul, but we've
pretty much tied the corporation's hands for three
months. That will give me time to follow up on a
lead."

"That Sherwood's claim to the land wasn't valid?"

"Exactly. And that might be easier to do than finding out who the next of kin really is. You know how the
family trees are intertwined on Tawes. McCreadys and
Parkses are related to everybody else. The ones who
aren't cousins would have been if their parents had
been married."

"You can say the same about the Davis clan. The
only folks I know I'm not related to are the Williamses
and the Washingtons."

Forest chuckled. "Not certain you can say that ei ther. Our black families have been here longer than
the McCreadys, the Tilghmans, or the Loves. And
they've always been freemen."

"I know that the island was antislavery."

"Probably because so many of the early settlers married Nanticoke Indian women. Especially Tawes men."

"All right, Forest, let me get this point clear. If Abbie
Night Horse and anyone accompanying her go onto
the Indian site, they're not breaking any laws."

"Not only that, son. In layman's terms, what I have
here states that Sherwood's relative, one Robert Mellmore, has no clear claim on the land. Thus, he has no
legal right to sell to Onicox or anyone else until the
matter is settled. The option is on hold, and Onicox
may not break ground or exercise any control over
the property until the matter is settled in a court of
law."

"Sounds good."

"Excuse me!" An attractive brunette in her midforties was calling to Forest from the dock. Behind her
stood a young man with a large camera balanced on
one shoulder. "Mr. McCready?"

"I've got uninvited company," Forest said to Buck.
"The press. I'll show you the papers when I get back to
Tawes."

"Roger that," Buck answered.

Forest descended the bridge to offer his hand. "Miss
Quinn, I believe. I'm flattered. What can I do for you?"