Twisted Paths (14 page)

“Ian’s very smart,” Clarissa said.

Matt shrugged, “Yeah, it sounds familiar.”

Mike hooted and shook his head. “Yeah, like Einstein’s theory sounds familiar.”

“We’d like your permission to remove the envelope within the plastic casing,” Matt said.

“Oh, of course,” Ian agreed. “That’s the safest way to get the envelope out of here.  Once you decontaminate it, I’d like it back.”

“No problem,” Matt agreed. “Were there any other areas contaminated?”

“Well, Clarissa carried the envelope home in her coat pocket,” Mary volunteered. “Ian suggested I double bag it for you to take.”

“I’m going to get a new coat,” Clarissa volunteered. “Mary said so.”

Matt looked down at Clarissa. “That’s great, thank you for giving us your old coat,” Matt said, and then he smiled at Mary. “You’ve done a great job, ma’am.”

“Too bad, Ian,” Mike added. “Guess you’re not cute enough to have done a good job.”

Giggling again, Clarissa clapped her hands over her mouth.

Matt turned to Ian. “We’d also like to take the gloves you used,” he said.  “Is there anything else that came in contact with the envelope?”

“The table downstairs,” Ian said, “and I believe Bradley cleaned it thoroughly.”

“Chief Alden has also opened all of the windows downstairs to air the house out,” Matt said.

“And we’ve cleaned any skin that came into contact with the envelope. Mostly on Clarissa and Mary,” Ian added.

“Should we find another place to spend the night?” Mary asked.

Matt smiled at her. “No, I’m sure you’ll be safe,” he said. “The amount of exposure was really minimal.”

“Thank you so much,” Mary replied, smiling back at him.

“No...no problem,” he said. “If I can be of any more help…if you need anything…”

“And Mary O’Reilly has once again devastated a man with her smile,” Mike said.

“Mary is going to marry my daddy, Bradley,” Clarissa inserted protectively.

“Oh,” Matt’s smile fell. “Well, congratulations.”

“Thank you,” Mary replied, putting her arm around Clarissa’s shoulders.

“Good job, sweetheart,” Mike added.

Clarissa winked at Mike.

After finishing all of the steps in their protocol, the team met with everyone in the living room.  “It looks like you’ve done everything correctly,” Matt said. “We’ll conduct more tests on the envelope and get back to you, Chief Alden.”

“Thank you,” he said. “And it’s important that any message or fingerprints from the envelope are preserved for further investigation and possible indictment.”

“Yes, sir, we’ll remember to treat this as evidence,” Matt assured him.

“Thanks for your good work,” Bradley said, as he escorted them to the door. “I’ll be in touch with you in the morning.”

He turned back to the room and his eyes met Mary’s. “We should talk,” he said.

“Aye, you should,” Ian said. “But the department store will be closing in thirty minutes and Clarissa is going to need a coat in the morning.”

Mary nodded. “Why don’t we go get the coat,” she said. “We can talk on the way.”

“And I’ll order pizza for delivery,” Ian added. “We’ll keep some warm for you.”

“Thanks, Ian,” Mary said, and went over to the kitchen table to get her coat.

Bradley reached for his coat in the closet and then stopped and turned to Ian. “Where are you going to order pizza from?” he asked. “Do you know the delivery person?”

“I’ll order from Joe’s,” he said. “I know the delivery man. He’s come here a number of times.”

He held up his hand to stave off another question from Bradley. “But not enough times to have become routine for anyone watching the house,” he added quickly.

Bradley released a long, slow breath. “Thanks, Ian,” he said. “I’ll try not to continue to be paranoid.”

“You’ve got a good reason to be careful,” Ian said, “and we’d all be wise to be a bit more paranoid.”

Chapter Twenty-nine

Mary and Bradley walked out to his cruiser in silence.  He opened the door for her and she slipped in.  Once he got into the car, he turned it on, but didn’t put the car in drive.  He sat in the seat, his hands on the steering wheel, staring out the front window. “Mary, I realize…”

“Bradley, I’m sorry,” she interrupted. “I should have called you.”

He nodded, but didn’t turn towards her. “Why didn’t you?” he asked softly.

She didn’t have to think about her answer for long, she has asked herself that same question all night long. “His call got to me,” she said quietly. “His voice terrified me. I literally got sick when I heard his message.”

Turning to her, his eyes were filled with confusion. “I don’t understand,” he said. “Isn’t that when you should have come to me?”

Would he? Could he understand when she was having a hard time totally understanding it herself?

“I don’t want to be terrified anymore,” she explained. “I don’t want to be weak. I don’t want to give him that kind of power over me. After I got sick, I got mad. Really mad.  I wanted to kick his butt. And it felt…”

She paused and met his eyes, praying that he would understand. “And it felt like going to you right away was admitting defeat. Was like running off to someone else who could and would take care of me, instead of taking care of myself. I didn’t want to let him win again.”

Bradley released his hold on the steering wheel and sat back in his seat. “We’re a team, Mary,” he finally said.

She turned in her seat, facing him. “Yes, we are,” she agreed. “And I brought the answering machine home, so you could hear it.  And I was going to share every detail with you. But I couldn’t go running to you right away, like a scared child.”

“I can understand that,” he replied, turning towards her.

“And if I had any idea that he had made that call from town, that he’d been in contact with Clarissa…”

She bent her head. “I would not have done anything to risk her safety.”

He leaned over, caressing her cheek with his hand and finally cupping her chin and gently turning her to face him. “I know that,” he said. “I know you’d lay down your life for her.”

She met his eyes. “She means the world to you…to us.”

Nodding, he smiled slightly as he ran his thumb over her lips. “She’s not the only one who means the world to me.”

Smiling tremulously, she nodded. “Yeah, for me too,” she replied. “I’m sorry I made you angry.”

Chuckling, as he realized Mary had just repeated the same words Clarissa had used, he leaned over and placed a gentle kiss on her lips. “With two women in my household, I’m never going to win, right?” he asked, his face just inches from hers.

She slid her hands up his neck and buried her fingers in his hair. With a twinkle in her eyes, she smiled at him and just before she pulled his face closer for a deeper kiss, she whispered, “Not a chance.”

Chapter Thirty

“This reminds me of walking through the moors at home,” Ian said, as he and Mary walked across the grounds of the cemetery in the early morning fog.

“This reminds me of an old Sherlock Holmes movie,” Mary said. “And at any moment, the Hounds of Baskerville are going to come charging out from behind one of these tombstones.”

“Aye, as I said, just like home,” he teased.

Laughing, she looked around them and shivered just a little.  The temperature had warmed considerably and the difference between the frozen ground and warm air had caused a fog so thick that visibility was considered zero.  They had taken their time driving the few blocks to the cemetery and found a note on the door that the owner was on the grounds. So they decided to take a walk and find him.

Fog literally rolled across the ground, hiding tombstones and sepulchers until you were right next to them, and then they would appear out of the mist as a stone ghost.  Even sounds were muffled by the fog, creating a feeling of complete isolation.

“This is kind of creepy,” Mary admitted.

“Have I ever told you my theory about zombies?” Ian asked conversationally. “That I found some evidence that they actually might exist?”

“Really? You had to bring that up here? Now?”

They passed a crypt the size of a large garden shed and they both jumped when the life-sized stone angel guarding it seemed to come out of nowhere.

“If that had been a zombie, your brain would have been breakfast,” Mary said.

“Not if she caught you first,” he argued.

“Oh, and here I was under the impression that you would throw yourself into the zombie’s arms and tell me to run and save myself,” she teased.

“Mary, darling, you know I’d do that normally,” he replied, “but since I might be the only one with the key to saving the entire human race. I’m afraid I’d have to trip you and run.”

She started to laugh and then froze. Ian paused next to her and they both listened to the soft thudding sound in the distance.

“What do you think it is?” she whispered.

Ian listened for another moment. “If I’m not mistaking, someone is digging out here.”

“But don’t they use backhoes to dig new gravesites?” she asked.

“Perhaps they’re not digging up a new one,” he suggested. “Perhaps they’re reacquainting themselves with an old friend.”

She turned to him. “I really should go walking in the fog with you more often. I’ve seen a whole other side to your personality.”

The rhythmic thudding continued and, as they got closer, they could pick out the sound of metal occasionally scraping against rock.

“My money’s on digging,” Mary whispered.

“Do you want to know what I think?” Ian whispered back.

Mary paused and turned to him. “No, I really don’t.”

Ian grinned and they continued toward the sound. The fog seemed to thicken as they got closer, rolling like great puffs of steam that encompassed the world around them. “We must be going downhill,” he whispered. “Fog collects in low spots.”

Nodding wordlessly, Mary strained her ears to hear.

Suddenly, Ian stumbled on a loose rock and sent it clattering ahead of them. 

“Who’s there?” a man’s voice called out into the fog.

“Um, hello,” Mary said in her friendliest voice. “I’m looking for Nick.”

“Who are you?” Nick asked, his voice laced with distrust.

Mary continued to move toward the voice. “I’m sorry,” she said, trying to buy a little more time. “What did you ask?”

“I want to know who you are and why you are looking for me?” he growled back.

Mary and Ian walked over a slight rise and caught sight of a slender man. He was standing near a large oak tree with a shovel in his hands, held like a quarterstaff, ready to do battle.  The fog rolled around him, nearly obscuring his features from them.  They could see the ground beneath had been freshly dug and hastily covered.

“Hello, Nick?” Mary asked as she tentatively moved closer.

“Who the hell are you?” he asked, his voice slightly high pitched, like he hadn’t really moved on past puberty.

“My name is Mary,” she replied as she moved even closer. “Mary O’Reilly.  And this is my friend, Professor Ian MacDougal.  We are doing some research and we were told you might be able to help us.”

He turned the shovel and thrust it into the ground next to him. “Help you with what?”

Since he was more or less disarmed, they both walked up next to him.  Ian looked down at the overturned dirt and saw the flattened earth around the small section of freshly turned ground.  He looked up at the man’s face.  Nick’s face was slightly flushed and, even in the cool fog, he had worked up a sweat.  “Did your pet die?” Ian asked.

“How did you…,” he paused, wiping the sweat from his brow. “Have you been spying on me?”

Ian shook his head. “Oh, no,” he said, shrugging his shoulders. “I’ve a large place back home in Scotland and we’ve quite a family of cats.  I’m fond of them and whenever one of them passes, I take it upon myself to see they’ve been cared for properly.  I’ve dug many a small grave in the wee hours of the morning.”

Nick shrugged. “Wasn’t even my cat,” he said. “Some idiot ran it over this morning. Left it in the gutter to die like it was a piece of trash. Didn’t even stop.”

“Perhaps they didn’t see it,” Mary offered.

“Yeah, right,” Nick scoffed. “More likely they didn’t want to waste their time on something they considered beneath them. Assholes.”

“Do they let you bury animals in the cemetery next to people?” Mary asked.

Nick stared at Mary for a moment. “Nope, they don’t,” he said. “You gonna turn me in?”

“All I’ve seen is some loose dirt,” she replied. “Isn’t that a common occurrence at a cemetery?”

He nodded slowly, his scowl lightening a little. “Yeah, I guess it is.  Besides, they deserve a proper burial more than most of the folks buried here.”

“You don’t like people much, do you Nick?” Ian asked.

His mouth turned up in a slight sneer and he met Ian’s eyes. “I like them best when I can put them six feet under,” he said. “They don’t bother me then.”

“Have you always felt this way about people?” Mary asked. “Or did it happen after Hope died?”

His eyes flashed with anger. “How do you know about Hope?”

“We’re actually investigating her death,” Mary said. “Her mother mentioned you to us.”

His laughter was bitter and quick. “Oh, yeah, and I bet she used the most flattering terms when she mentioned me,” he said. “Did she tell you I was a foreigner?”

Ian nodded. “She might have mentioned that.”

“My family has been here in Freeport for four generations,” he said. “My great-grandfather arrived here after World War I, but to someone like her, we will always be foreigners.”

“Did she oppose your relationship with Hope?” Mary asked.

“No, she didn’t give a damn about Hope,” he said. “But if I’d been interested in Faith, well, that would have been a whole different story.”

“Why?” Ian asked. “They were both her daughters.”

Nick lifted the shovel and shoved it back into the ground. “Hope was not quite…as acceptable as Faith,” he said angrily, his protruding Adam’s apple bobbing with emotion. “She was a little heavier, her skin wasn’t as perfect and she wasn’t the cheerleader type. Instead she was kind, sensitive and bright.  Not the right temperament for the Foley family.”