Against the Tide (8 page)

NINE

M
egan ran full speed to the nearest neighbor. With each step she prayed that Luella Martin would be home.

Pounding on Mrs. Martin's door, she screamed in terror. “It's Megan McCallister, please, let me in!”

The door opened with Luella staring at her in shock—but before Megan explained, she leaped through the door, slammed it shut and locked the dead bolt. “A man,” she gasped, “in Dad's house. He came at me.”

Luella grabbed Megan by the hand, guiding her into a bedroom before closing and locking the door. Then she hurried toward the landline phone on the bedside table. “I'll call 911.”

As Luella grabbed up her phone, Megan checked her pockets for her own phone and realized that she must've lost it when she tumbled down the front stairs. She'd been approaching her father's house when she saw someone lurking in the shadows of her dad's porch. Unable to speak, she'd backed away from him. But when he charged her, she'd screamed and stumbled backward on the porch steps, barely getting up in time to escape the intruder and run to her father's neighbor.

Hearing Luella talking to the 911 dispatcher, Megan held out her hand. “I should probably tell them what happened.”

Luella nodded and handed her the phone.

“It's Rory McCallister's house,” Megan said in a shrill voice, still trying to calm herself as she gave them the address. “It looks like the house has been ransacked,” she explained. “The intruder was dressed in dark clothing. I caught him by surprise, but he chased after me.” She explained who she was and where she was and that she thought they were safe, and continued to answer questions.

“I need to call Garret,” she told Luella as she hung up. “He's probably freaking out.” She told the woman about the disrupted phone call. But as she stared at the numbers on the landline phone, she realized that she didn't know Garret's number. It was saved in the contacts of her missing cell phone. And the business card he'd given her was in her purse, which was locked in her car.

“There's the police now,” Luella told Megan as the first cruiser came down the road. “Do you think the burglar is still around?”

“I doubt it.” Megan frowned as they both looked out the side window facing her dad's house. Then suddenly she broke down into tears.

“You poor thing.” Luella gathered Megan into her arms. “You lose your daddy and then someone breaks into his house. Not just once, but twice. It's so wrong.”

“Why are they doing this?” Megan asked between tears. “What is wrong with people?”

“I don't know, honey. But sometimes it just feels like the whole world is spinning out of control.” Luella reached for a tissue from the bedside table, handing it to Megan.

“I know.” Megan used it to wipe her tears and blow her nose. “Cape Perpetua just isn't the same anymore.”

“That's what your daddy kept saying.” Luella sighed. “But it seemed like nobody wanted to listen.”

“Did he tell you about it?”

“Not so much.” Luella reached for another tissue, blotting her own eyes. “Bless his heart, I don't think he liked to worry me. Sometimes we'd share some coffee or lemonade and he'd start to tell me about something, but then he'd stop. Almost like he didn't want me to know about the troubles plaguing this town.”

Megan nodded. As sweet as Luella Martin was—and a good neighbor—she had a tendency to get easily worked up. At least that's what Dad used to say. To be fair to the elderly woman, Luella had been relatively calm when Megan had burst into her house.

“Oh, my.” Luella let out a little sob. “This town is going to miss Rory McCallister.”

“I know.” Megan looked out the window to see there were two cop cars in the driveway now. “I better go talk to them,” she told Luella as she reached for the bedroom door. “Thanks so much for your help. Make sure you keep your doors locked. Although I doubt they'll be troubling you.”

Luella frowned. “That might be true, but I think I'll call my daughter just the same. See if I can visit her for a few days.”

“That's an excellent idea.” Megan nodded as she went for the front door, pausing to thank and hug the old woman again. “Enjoy your time with your daughter.” She wanted to add
you never know how many more times you'll get
but stopped herself. No need to trouble poor Luella any more than she already was.

Relieved to see that Lieutenant Conrad was one of the cops already standing outside the house, Megan hurried over to join him. “Get back behind here,” he told her as he led her to the rear of an emergency vehicle. “Was the man armed?”

“I honestly don't know,” she confessed. “When he charged toward me, I just ran. But there were no gunshots. My guess is he's gone by now.”

“We have to be cautious just the same.”

“Why are they doing this?” she asked him. “What's really going on?”

“I'm not really sure. But your dad had some crazy hunches.” He nodded toward the house. “Looks like they're going in.”

She looked at the front porch, where three cops were positioning themselves to enter. “What about the back of the house?” she asked Michael.

“A couple guys are back there already,” he told her.

“I'm guessing they're too late.”

“You're probably right. But maybe we can collect some evidence.”

Megan glanced around. “Is Detective Greene here?”

“Not yet. But he'll be by after his lunch break.”

Megan controlled herself from rolling her eyes. “Michael, just between you and me, do you think he knows what he's doing?”

“He's got good credentials.”

“But not much in the way of experience, right?”

Michael gave a half smile.

“Why didn't they pick someone like you to be the detective?” she asked.

He shrugged. “Not sure I'd want it. I'm looking forward to retirement in a couple of years. Time to start taking it easy.”

About a mile down the graveled road, she could see a familiar-looking SUV approaching fast, leaving a trail of dust behind it. “Uh-oh,” she said.

“What's wrong?” Michael went into high alert as he followed her gaze. “Who's that?”

“Garret Larsson. I was talking to him on my phone when the intruder charged at me. I screamed then dropped my phone while he was still on the other end. Poor Garret probably thinks I'm toast by now.”

“He's going pretty fast.”

“You won't ticket him, will you?”

Michael shrugged. “Not this time.”

She walked down the driveway toward the road, waving to Garret in an attempt to show him she was okay. Then jogging, she went up to meet him, jumping inside his SUV and explaining everything.

“Did you find your phone yet?” he asked.

“Not yet. I should probably wait until the police give me the green light.”

“I was worried about letting you go off by yourself,” he told her as he parked behind the police vehicles. “But if I'd known you were coming here, I would've dropped everything to come with you, Megan.”

“I didn't think it would be a problem. I mean, Michael was supposed to meet me. And it was broad daylight.”

“But then you got that bad feeling?” He turned off the engine.

“I felt uneasy,” she confessed.

“Was it what you'd call women's intuition?” he asked as they got out.

She shrugged. “Yeah, maybe.”

“Aren't you supposed to listen to that?” He peered curiously at her.

“I guess so.”

Michael was coming over to join them now. “It looks like the intruder is gone. But the place is a mess inside. The team's gathering evidence now.”

“Can I look around the porch area?” she asked. “I dropped my phone over there.”

“Didn't you say the intruder followed you out the front door?”

“Yeah, but—”

“Then you better let the team look for footprints first.”

She bit her lip. “Yeah...sure.”

“Do you think it's the same guy from the newspaper office?” Garret asked her.

“I really don't know.” She tried to remember. “It happened so fast. I was so shocked, I just took off running.”

“Good thing, too,” Garret told her.

“He seemed similar. Dark clothes. Average height. Medium build.” She closed her eyes, trying to pull up that face again. “But his skin seemed darker. Tanned. Almost Hispanic. But it was more of an impression. I wouldn't stake my life on it.”

Garret turned to Michael. “I have some things I need to tell Megan about. Things that Rory told me. I think maybe you should hear them, too.” He glanced at his watch. “Have you guys had lunch? I'm starving.”

The three agreed to meet at The Chowder House for lunch, and Garret insisted Megan ride with him. He could tell she was rattled and tired—and he had a strong urge to take care of her.

“Were you able to figure out everything with your car this morning?” he asked as he drove.

“Yeah. The tires are all covered by AAA. Then I noticed Arthur was working in the newspaper office so I went inside and talked to him a while. I asked him to notify the other employees that they'll be laid off with pay until further notice.”

“Further notice being...?”

“I'll have to let them know the paper is shutting down and that I'll list it for sale after Memorial Day.”

“That's pretty tough news.”

“Believe me, I know. And it's not easy.”

“No, I wouldn't think it would be.” Garret refrained from pointing out how this decision would've broken her father's heart. And, really, who could blame her for wanting to close it down and get out of here? So far Cape Perpetua hadn't been exactly welcoming.

“Then Michael called to see how I was. He asked about Dad's memorial service. So I called the church and reserved the date. It'll be at three o'clock on Wednesday afternoon.”

“Same day the newspaper came out.”

“Yeah. I thought Dad would like that. It'll be at his church. Pastor Jackson has been really helpful. He's handling a lot of it for me. Such a great guy.”

“That's good.”

“But I still need to go to the mortuary. Dad sent me a packet a couple of years ago. I never really looked at it...never expected to need it so soon. But it was for a plan at Riverside Funeral Home. I left a message with the director that I'd stop by today.” She let out a tired sigh, leaning back into the seat.

“You're probably exhausted.”

“I kind of am.”

“Maybe you can have some downtime after lunch.”

She sat up straighter now. “I don't expect any downtime until this whole thing is wrapped up.”

“Wrapped up?” He eyed her curiously. “What exactly do you mean by that?”

“I want to know how Dad died—and if it's related to all this other stuff. I want to get to the bottom of it.”

“I think that's what Rory had been trying to do, too,” he said glumly. “But, as he found out, it wasn't that easy.”

“So you do know what he was working on?” She looked intently at him. “And you never even told me?”

“If you remember correctly, I started to tell you a number of times. But it seems like we're always getting interrupted by things like stray bullets, killers and such.”

“Even so.” She sounded aggravated, and he felt a bit guilty.

“It's not like I really know anything specifically. Rory didn't exactly spill the beans. But I've been putting some things together—my hunch has been growing.”

“So you're going to tell Michael and me about your hunch?”

He nodded as he turned next to the bridge, pulling up in front of the rustic building that housed the old café. “That's my plan. Unless someone attempts to blow this place up while we're talking.”

“That's so not funny.”

“I wasn't joking.” He looked cautiously around as he led her into the funky old restaurant. “I'm watching my back pretty carefully now. You should be, too.”

“I know.” She looked at the low wooden building. “I haven't been here in years. Dad used to bring me a lot. But as a teenager, I started turning my nose up at it.” She sighed as they went inside. “What a little fool I was.”

He chuckled. “Chalk it up to adolescence.”

Relieved that nothing seemed changed, Megan paused by the big bulletin board by the door. The Bragging Board was where fishermen tacked their trophy photos up. “Look.” She pointed to one of her dad with a gigantic fish and a huge grin. “That lingcod was nearly sixty pounds,” she told Garret.

He chuckled. “Too bad Rory didn't like lingcod.”

“I know. He donated it to the soup kitchen. Only reason he didn't throw it back was because it was photo worthy.”

Garret pointed to a booth in the corner. “That okay?”

“Yeah.” She nodded to the door. “Here comes Michael.”

After they were settled and orders placed, Garret was just starting to explain what Rory had been working on when Michael suddenly stood. Pointing out the window that looked out to the bridge and river, he asked, “Does that look like this morning's boat?”

Megan and Garret both turned to see. “Yes!” Megan exclaimed. Then, suddenly afraid, she asked, “Are we in danger?”

“I don't know, but I plan to find out.” Michael was reaching for his phone. “But you kids stay away from the windows.”

“Need help?” Garret offered.

“I don't think so.” Michael was heading for the door. “I just want to tip off the coast guard. Maybe they've got a cutter nearby.”

As Michael went outside, Megan and Garret hovered behind a shelf filled with tourist trinkets. It worked as a divider to block them from the window.

“What's up?” the waitress asked with curiosity.

Garret quickly explained, urging her and the other restaurant workers to remain in the kitchen until they got the all-clear. But as Garret was peeking around the side of the trinket shelf, Megan felt herself trembling uncontrollably. She tried to make herself believe it was low blood sugar, something that happened occasionally when she skipped a meal. But she knew what it really was.