Redemption (47 page)

Jane withdrew the press pass she took from Buddy the day before. “I’m with the
Fresno Bee
.” Jane carefully covered up Buddy’s name, flashing the pass in front of the girl’s excited eyes. “I interviewed one of your employees last week when I was doing a human interest story about the classic lodges in the Valley. His name is Lou Peters. Works maintenance?”

“I wouldn’t know. I’m just temping during the Christmas break. You’re featuring
this
Lodge in the
Bee
?”

Jane wasn’t sure if the girl thought the idea was absurd or intriguing. “That’s the plan. But Mr. Peters said I could come up and mosey around to infuse the story with a more ‘been there’ feeling. You know what I mean?”

“Absolutely!” The girl replied, not having a clue what Jane meant.

“You think I could walk around and drink up the atmosphere?” Jane asked, her tone so sugary-sweet she thought she’d choke.

“Sure!” The girl said, happy to feel that she had a modicum of power to allow Jane roaming privileges.

Jane meandered around the empty dining room as the girl disappeared into the kitchen. She walked past the wooden bar with its swivel seats, each engraved with a series of hummingbirds
across the backrest. Jane felt her gut tug. It was her personal form of radar; an indication that she was close to something significant. She surveyed the back of the bar. It was seriously disorganized. Stacks of newspapers sat precariously next to the cash register, next to a metal stake loaded thick with paid table checks, next to pitchers of water, next to a garbage can piled high with debris. She turned to face the dining room and contemplate her next move when the fresh-faced girl walked back into the dining room carrying a stack of red tablecloths.

“Drinking in our atmosphere?” she said with a happy cadence.

“You betcha!” Jane responded. “I’m just gonna mosey around the motel.”

“Have fun!” the girl exclaimed as she shook open one of the tablecloths.

Jane’s eyes locked on the tablecloth. It was shiny and vinyl and looked like a red leather jacket from a distance. She flashed on Rachel’s guesthouse and the shiny red material she couldn’t identify from outside the house. She recalled a specific black-and-white design that bordered the material; something tiny and repetitive. The girl spread the cloth on the table and walked to the next station. Jane moved closer and identified the pattern as interlocking hummingbirds. It seemed that Lou broke at least one commandment: Thou shall not steal.

Outside, Jane rounded the dining room and crept around the corner. Lou’s inimitable baby blue motorcycle with the white dove decal on the rear fender was still there. She strolled near the motorcycle, getting a closer look before sauntering down the walkway. Jane approached a narrow cement entryway, where she located a single door with a placard that read: EMPLOYEES ONLY. She pressed her ear to the metal door and, after hearing no one, turned the knob and walked inside....

Kit took a sip of herbal tea and stared out the window of The Circle 9 Diner. It had been an hour since she’d spied on Clinton as he hungrily took her bait and dug up the mason jar with the handwritten note inside. Kit waited for what she hoped would be his stunned reaction to the words. She wasn’t disappointed as he read the note.

Clinton looked as if he’d just uncovered the map to the Holy Grail. Kit observed him slide the note back into the jar, secure the lid, and return it to the hole. After replacing the dirt and tamping the soil, Clinton arranged the loose deadwood into a ridiculous pattern that resembled an arrow pointing at the freshly dug ground.

Kit smiled at the irony of the whole thing. Jasper was the name of a former, passionate lover Kit used to covertly meet forty years ago. She figured he’d be proud to have his name used for another kind of misguided tryst. The waitress brought the check as Kit debated her next move. She knew Clinton would be hovering near the forested area to catch a glimpse of “Jasper.” However, she also knew he couldn’t spend his entire time there. Most likely, he would steal away and return frequently to check the status of the note. The trick was to make sure he was occupied long enough somewhere else so Kit would have enough time to return to the forest a half-mile away from the diner and remove the note in order to give Clinton the impression that “Jasper” had discovered it. As if someone above heard her prayer, Kit glanced outside and found
Clinton parking his SUV in the diner’s parking lot and immediately being corralled by Sheriff Golden into an impromptu media interview. Kit removed her hat, letting her salt-and-pepper braid fall across her chest, folded her distinctive coat over her arm, and walked right past Clinton without so much as a glance from him.

It took Kit twenty minutes to hike back to the forest and successfully complete the deception. Her job was done, according to the detailed outline of Jane’s plan. However, Kit wasn’t ready to journey back to the cabin. She’d gotten a good serving of sleuthing and she liked the tingling aftertaste. And there was someone she really wanted to talk to....

 

 

Jane surveyed the small space. The cramped, mustard-yellow room was barely big enough to hold the row of lockers, a center bench, a small table shoved against the wall, four folding chairs, and a coffeemaker. About the only thing that stood out in the windowless room was the trademark low-hanging red vinyl tablecloth with the interlocking hummingbird motif. Jane crossed to the bank of numbered lockers. None of them had locks securing them, and they also didn’t have nameplates to identify them. Jane glanced above the lockers and noted individual numbered plastic baskets lined up with each locker. She dragged a folding chair away from the table and stood on the seat to get a better view of the baskets. The container in the middle with the number “3” held a motorcycle helmet. Jane jumped off the chair and opened locker number three. A seven-inch square mirror hung on the inside of the door with a three-inch-wide “Jesus Lives!” decal taped over the top portion of it. To Jane, it seemed like an odd location to put a decal that size since it obscured almost half of the mirror. She heard voices passing outside and felt her heart race momentarily before the sound faded into the distance. Resuming her search, Jane found a neatly folded denim shirt sitting on top of a compacted black leather bomber jacket. On top of the clothing lay a thick
leather wallet. Jane looked inside and found forty-two dollars and Lou’s driver’s license. It was the same license Jane had retrieved during her Internet DMV search; the same clean-cut mug with those piercing blue eyes. She replaced the wallet and noticed a white, leather-bound Bible under the clothing. She gingerly inched it out of the locker. The cover stated that it was the “red letter” version of the King James Bible. Handwritten at the top of the cover in red ink was, MY SPECIAL WORDS. Jane carefully flipped through the pages. Throughout the various chapters, she saw long and short passages highlighted in yellow. A thought crossed Jane’s mind and she turned to Isaiah. As she expected, Lou had highlighted the entire chapter in yellow. Of course he did, she mused; Bartosh told his devotees to memorize Isaiah because of its supposed significance to the coming Armageddon. A long bookmark in the shape of a cross was tightly wedged in another section of the Bible. Jane turned to that section to find the beginning of The New Testament and the Gospel according to St. Matthew. The entire first chapter was highlighted in bright yellow. Alongside the narrow margins, Lou had written a series of exclamation points. They seemed to correspond to specific verses within chapter one.

Jane would have gladly spent another five hours going through Lou’s Bible, but she knew it was only a matter of time before somebody walked through the door. She quickly stashed the Bible back exactly the way she found it and focused on a black backpack stuffed deep into the locker. She knew she couldn’t safely remove it without disturbing the appearance of the locker. So instead, Jane unzipped the backpack and sunk her hand into it. Feeling around, she came upon something metal and sharp. Withdrawing the object, Jane noted a portable razor. She returned the razor to the backpack. Fishing around in the bag, her fingers brushed against a small, plastic cylinder about three inches in length. Jane was just about to remove it when she heard the sound of echoing footsteps heading through the outside entryway. Her heart pounding, she pulled her hand out of the backpack, leaving it unzipped, quietly
closed the locker door, and spotted the only place in the room to take refuge....

 

 

Kit walked into Jenny’s Hair Salon at the stroke of eleven A.M. She expected to find a horde of media holed up in the bubblegumcolored establishment, but the place was eerily vacant. A row of hair dryers lined up against the left wall of the tiny salon. Across from them were four shelves, all holding Styrofoam molded heads and every kind of wig a woman could desire. Kit meandered over to the display. Underneath each wig was a label describing the celebrity style of the coiffure. There was the “Bo Derek from
10
”—alluding to the corn-rowed hairstyle she wore in the classic 80’s flick—sitting next to the “Bo Derek 2000”, a more up-to-date blond wig. The names of the celebrities ranged from those Kit recognized to those she never heard of. She noted that there were two Styrofoam molds that were missing wigs. One placard under a missing wig read OLD LADY. The other missing wig placard read CHRISTINA AGUILERA/MTV 2003 VIDEO LOOK. Her eye briefly caught sight of a long strand of purple and red from a wig tucked in the corner. She moved two hairpieces out of the way and saw the familiar rainbow-colored wig Charlotte wore in the birthday video. Kit removed the wig from the Styrofoam mold and held it with great reverence. She lifted the wig to her face, her mind momentarily drifting far away.

“Hello?”

Kit turned around. She immediately identified the woman standing across from her as Aunt Donna,
also
infamous from the birthday video. “Hi. My name’s Katherine.” Kit held out her hand to Donna, who remained stoic.

“Are you with the press?” Her voice was weary, her attitude guarded.

“Oh, heavens no!” Kit turned around to face the wigs and hatched an excuse. “I’m heading to Fresno with my daughter to
have chemo. The doctors suggested I find a wig so that I’ll have something ready to go when my hair falls out.”

Donna’s face sunk. “I’m so sorry. Forgive me. I’m just exhausted and not thinking straight.” She halfheartedly crossed to the shelves of wigs. “I honestly doubt you’ll find anything here that you want. None of them are new. We rent them out for costume parties, community theater, and school plays.”

“Ah, I see,” Kit replied, still tenderly stroking the rainbow wig.

“Why don’t you cut off your long hair before you lose it and have a wig made out of it?”

Kit was genuinely impressed with Donna’s creative suggestion. “What a wonderful idea!” She handed the rainbow wig back to Donna.

Although she tried to hide it, the portly woman started to choke up as she placed the multicolored hairpiece back on the mold. “I’m sorry,” Donna stammered.

“Don’t apologize,” Kit countered with her trademark empathy. “Come here.” With that, Kit drew Donna toward her and hugged her tightly. The woman lost control and uncontrollably sobbed against Kit’s shoulder.

“I’m sorry,” Donna uttered though her sobs. “You have enough troubles of your own, what with your chemo.”

“Forget about that. Come on. Let’s sit down.” Kit led Donna to the row of pink-vinyl hair dryers and sat next to her. “Talk to me,” Kit said, like a mother to a child.

Donna dried her eyes. “I assume you’ve heard about the little girl who went missing here in town?”

Kit furrowed her brow, looking confused. “Ah, I think I did. Charlene?”

“Charlotte. She’s my niece.” Donna melted into another puddle of tears.

“Oh, darling. I had no idea.” Kit carefully weighed what she was about to say. “I know people say they understand, when they don’t have any idea what you’re going through. But I can honestly tell you that I truly do know what you’re feeling right now.” Donna
wiped her nose and looked at Kit with sad, doe eyes. “My granddaughter went missing fourteen years ago when I lived in Big Sur.”

“How long was she gone?” Donna asked, feeling an immediate kinship with Kit.

“Fourteen days.”

“Charlotte’s been gone nine. May I ask what happened to your granddaughter?”

Kit considered the question. “She was found... alive.”

Donna smiled as tears streamed down her face. “
Really?
After fourteen days? You know what they say, don’t you? You have to find them in the first forty-eight hours or—”

“Oh, that’s just rubbish! They found my girl alive and safe. She’s twenty-eight now.” Tears welled in Kit’s eyes. “She’s still strong and still as beautiful as she was at fourteen. And she visits her ol’ grandmother all the time. She’s worried about my cancer, but I tell her I’m going to be fine.”

“I can’t tell you what it means to me to hear this. I’m going to tell Jenny. That’s my sister.... Charlotte’s mother. She hasn’t been in here since Charlotte went missing.”

“Has Jenny got good people around her?” Kit asked, arriving at the critical core of her improvised visit.

“She’s taking advantage of the media’s interest in order to keep Charlotte’s disappearance on the minds of the public.”

“One thing I learned when my granddaughter disappeared is that you have to be very careful who you allow into your circle. You wouldn’t want...oh...what’s that awful man’s name....” Kit pretended to struggle with her memory. “Clinton! Clinton Fredericks! You would never want that terrible man near your sister!”