Forbidden Entry (32 page)

She massaged the deep frown lines on her forehead. “Um…it was hard to understand her because she kept cutting out, but I know she said they'd been hiking. She said they'd found some Indian ruins with petroglyphs, seen some baby javelinas, deer and some other strange little creatures. I can't remember what she called them…”

“Sugar gliders?” I cut in hopefully.

Appearing surprised, she said, “Why, yes. I never heard of them before. How did you know that?”

So, Daisy had been right. I hurriedly grappled for my phone. “I have some pictures I thought you'd like to see.” I told them about Daisy's propensity for photographing everything. “I think these were taken just a few days before Jenessa died and perhaps on one of the days she called you.”

Marcelene stared at them with an inscrutable expression, then solemnly handed the phone to Ginger, who blinked back tears before she passed it back to me. Absently, I swiped to the very last picture. Ah yes. The mysterious Stilts. Hoping to spare her sensibilities, I'd deliberately left out his hurtful diatribe. Why torture her further? But, maybe that was wrong. Every possibility should be explored. She would expect that of me. I leaned forward. “There is one more thing. Did Jenessa ever mention meeting a man who calls himself Stilts?”

She drew back, frowning. “Stilts? Not that I can remember.”

As I recapped the inflammatory conversation, Marclene's expression of bewilderment switched to horror. Her face turning scarlet, she gasped, “What? What possible reason would that…that
monster
have to say such despicable things about my sweet girl?” Tears flooded her eyes. “He must be insane!” Marcelene grabbed several tissues from a box.

“Well, that's one possibility,” I answered dryly. “But, somehow I got the impression that it was more than that. His remarks seemed…calculated and personal.”

I turned the screen to face her. “Have you ever seen this guy before?”

Marcelene squinted at the photo and shook her head. “I don't think so. Can you make the face larger?”

“Sure.” I expanded his face to fill the screen and handed her the phone again. This time she stared in open-mouthed astonishment and murmured, “Oh my God!”

“What?” Ginger interjected, her startled gaze darting back and forth between her aunt's stricken face and the phone.

Marcelene's breathing was so erratic, I was afraid she might be hyperventilating. She looked up to meet my eyes. “Do you remember the story I told you about Jenessa's friend Kailey?”

“Of course,” I replied. “The little girl who drowned at Lake Powell.”

She pointed a shaky finger at my phone. “This man looks much older, but I'm 99 percent sure this is her father. John Higglebottom.”

CHAPTER

28

Statues. We must have looked like three stone statues, sitting there in frozen wonder. I'm sure I looked especially dumbfounded. Her revelation blew my theory about the Hinkles to smithereens. “Are you positive about this?”

Marcelene let out an anguished wail that made my hair stand on end. “I'm sure! Call the sheriff. This man murdered my daughter!” She sprang from the chair, grabbed my shoulder and I winced when she dug her nails in like cat claws. Her flushed face only inches from mine, she held the phone up and shrieked, “Don't you see? An eye for an eye! He…he…he's punishing me for killing Kailey! He did it! He got even with me by killing
my
little girl!” She shoved the phone into my hands. “Do it! Call Marshall right now! Hurry!”

Her accusation certainly cast a whole new light on Jenessa's mysterious death and sent my imagination skyrocketing. The callous proclamation made perfect sense to me now. And that also explained the G and T on the mailbox. My mind flashed back to Daisy. She'd told me he had a different name but I had put no stock in her odd statement. Why had he chosen to hide out in Raven Creek all these years? And if he had somehow orchestrated that Jenessa die in the same manner as his daughter, how had he carried it out and left no evidence behind?

Marcelene's hysterical screams brought Bonnie, Tom and Brian rushing into the room, and for what seemed like an hour, sheer pandemonium reigned. Everyone talked at once, demanding to know what was happening, while Ginger and I tried to calm the situation. “Aunt Marcelene!” she finally commanded in a kind but stern tone, attempting to slide one arm around the flailing woman, “You gotta calm yourself down! You're scarin' the bejeezus out of everybody!”

Undeterred, Marcelene shook her off. “He killed her! He killed my baby!” Eyes brimming with anguish, she glowered at me. “Tell Marshall to arrest this man for murder!”

Even though I knew calling him would be a wasted effort, I soothed her with, “Okay, Marcelene. Calm down. I promise I will call him.”

Her whole body shook with uncontrollable sobs as we all stood there wondering what to do. As her cries grew louder and more frantic, Bonnie burst into tears, Squirt began to howl and the men shrank into the furthest corner watching in helpless horror. Apparently Marcelene's shouts were shrill enough to awaken Nona, who rolled into the doorway and sat in bleary-eyed puzzlement, surveying the chaotic scene. “What the hell is all the commotion about?” she demanded, banging her hand on the arm of her wheelchair.

“Aunt Marcelene is havin' a nervous breakdown.” Ginger turned startled eyes on me. “I got some sedatives Dr. Garcia prescribed for her nerves. I'd best go get one!”

“Better get two,” I urged as she hurried from the room.

Ginger finally got her settled down enough to get the pills down her throat, and to everyone's relief, her sobbing began to gradually subside to shuddery moans as we helped her onto the sofa. Poor little Squirt nervously whirled in circles, his little face scrunched in concern while Bonnie clasped Marcelene's hand and Ginger tucked a blanket around her. When I looked around for Brian, I caught him charging towards the front door. I sprinted across the room to intercept him. “Hey, don't go yet! I need your help.”

“I don't do family drama real well,” he said, his lips twisting with chagrin as he struggled into his jacket. “I'm outta here.”

“Wait!” I pulled him aside and explained what I needed.

“If you just need photos and files I can take the hard drive out and connect it to my computer and pull the files off as long as the drive is not encrypted.”

“So, I'll be able to log in?”

“Sure. I can run a utility on it that will change the password.”

“What about her emails?” I inquired, glancing over my shoulder, relieved to see that Marcelene seemed under control.

“Depends on if it's password protected. Most times it isn't. I can go get it and take it home with me to work on if you like.”

“That would be great.” Hurrying towards her room, I could hardly wait to pull out the old photo in the nightstand to verify Marcelene's allegation.

When we arrived at the bedroom door, my heart ached at the sight of the lonesome cat still crouched in a tight ball on the floor. “Hello, Fiona,” I said softly. She looked up at me and we made immediate eye contact. Approaching with stealth, I knelt down and experienced a mild twinge of surprise when she allowed me to pick her up and stroke her luxurious black fur. Within seconds, her rumbling purr filled the hallway. “What's going to become of this poor kitty?” I murmured as Brian ambled across the room towards the desk.

“I dunno,” came his disinterested answer. “Aunt Marcelene's allergic to her long hair and wants to get rid of her.”

“Really? That's a shame.”

He unplugged the laptop. “Yeah, I overheard her telling Ginger that she's going to have to go back where she came from.”

My heart contracted with pity. The cat had obviously bonded big-time with Jenessa and even though I felt certain she would be in good hands with Daisy, somehow returning her seemed cruel.

He grabbed up the power cord and laptop and swept past me. “I'll let you know when I get into the files.”

“Thank you, Brian,” I said, setting the cat on the bed. “I'm mainly interested in any photos, messages or emails within the past month.”

“Gotcha.” He disappeared around the corner, and as the same gloomy silence I'd experienced before settled over the room, I made a beeline for the nightstand and pulled out the faded photo. I pointed my phone flashlight directly on it and gasped in disbelief. There was no mistaking that crooked nose, that gangly frame. Marcelene was right. Marshall should know immediately about this embittered, vindictive man who possessed the motive, means and opportunity to have committed this vengeful crime. It was clear to me that he was a man consumed with unending hatred for those responsible for his daughter's death. I could only conclude that the unfinished house served as a reflection of his unfinished life, or perhaps unfinished business?

Deeply disturbed, I took a picture of the print and laid it on the desk before I methodically began to sort through the receipts a second time. I was disappointed when I got to the bottom of the box. I'd found nothing of significant interest. As I was scooping up the papers, I felt Fiona rub against my leg. I stooped to pet her again, and when I did, one of the receipts fluttered to the floor. I picked it up, noting it was the one for Jenessa's new cell phone purchase. I gave it a cursory once-over, thinking that she'd badly overpaid, and was poised to return it to the box when one of the items caught my attention. I stared hard as the significance gradually sunk in.
Jenessa had purchased two phones.
Pausing, I looked up, staring unseeing at the wall.
Where was the second one?
Wait a minute! What if…?

I turned around so fast I tripped over the cat, then executed a series of short hops, careened off the dresser and finally grabbed the bedpost to keep from falling. My awkward ballet sent the poor animal into a panic. Fur puffed, her back arched like a Halloween cat, Fiona streaked under the bed. “Sorry, girl,” I called out before dashing towards the living room, my mind whirling. Why hadn't Marcelene mentioned this very important fact? My breath coming in short gasps, I barreled into the room where Bonnie and Ginger hovered over Marcelene. Obviously taken aback by my dramatic entrance, both women gawked at me before Ginger placed her forefinger to her lips.

“I need to talk to her!” I said in an urgent whisper. “Right now!”

Bonnie pinned with me an incredulous look. “You can't. We just now got her settled down.”

I waved the receipt in front of Ginger. “Jenessa bought two new cell phones before she left. Do you know where the other one is?” Her blank expression answered my question. I pointed to the sofa. “She's got to have it. I need to find out where it is. Jenessa may have left a voice message, a text or a photo that could pinpoint her location before her phone disappeared!”

The two women exchanged a look of uncertainty before Ginger replied in a doubtful voice, “That can't be right. Marcelene never mentioned nuthin' about havin' a cell phone. And even if she had one, she wouldn't know what to do with it. You know how she is with computer stuff.”

Consumed with helpless frustration, I said, “Look. You both wanted answers and this could be it.” Ignoring Bonnie's request, I pushed between them and knelt down beside the sofa. Marcelene was totally zonked out. I shook the woman's bony shoulder. “Marcelene, wake up! I have to talk to you!”

“Sugar pie,” Ginger whispered in my ear. “Are you sure this can't wait until mornin'?”

“No!” I shook her again. Stirring, her eyes fluttered open and I could tell she was having trouble focusing.

“What? Whaaaat's happening?” she slurred.

“Did Jenessa give you a cell phone?”

Blinking fast, her eyes kept rolling back in her head. I glanced questioningly at Ginger, thinking the tranquilizers must have been pretty potent. Ginger looked perplexed. “What? Why are you givin' me the stink eye? You told me to give her two.”

Sighing, I turned back to Marcelene. “Did she buy you a cell phone? That's all I need to know.”

Struggling to keep her eyes open, she licked her dry lips. “I…I…yes, she did. But…I…don't how to use it. She said she'd…show me. But…she's never…” Her eyelids fluttered closed again and I decided it was useless to continue browbeating the poor woman. My blood burning with curiosity, I jumped up to face Ginger.

“We have to find the other phone. Where would she have put it?”

“I ain't a mind reader,” my friend complained, her gaze sweeping around the room. “Bon Bon,” she said, addressing her sister, “stay here with her, would ya?” And to me she added, “Let's start lookin' in every drawer and cupboard. You take the kitchen and I'll check out her bedroom. It's gotta be around here someplace.”

It took fifteen minutes of rifling around the small house but I finally heard Ginger's triumphant shout. “I got it! I got it!” We almost collided in the kitchen as she bolted in and thrust a cell phone into my waiting hands. “I like to have never found it! She had it setting up on top of the TV with the remote.”

Eagerly, I pressed the ON button. Nothing. It was only after repeatedly pressing the power button that I realized that the battery had most likely never been charged. “Rats,” I murmured just as the cuckcoo clock chirped ten times. Suppressing my agitation, I looked up at Ginger. “Do you know where the charger is for this phone?”

“Oh, good gravy,” she muttered, tossing her head impatiently. “Come on, let's both look for it.”

Ten minutes later, we found it underneath a stack of magazines. “Listen,” I said, wrapping the cord up next to the phone. “I don't have time to hang around here all night waiting for this to charge. I'm going to take it home with me.”

“Fine by me,” said Ginger, trotting after me as I grabbed my coat and strode to the front door. “You are gonna call Marshall, right?”

“Yes.” I hated to tell her that without evidence it would be a futile effort, but I did plan to text him the photo along with Marcelene's suspicion. Armed with the new information, he could decide whether John Higglebottom would now become a person of interest.

Ginger added, “Let us know what you find out.”

“Of course.”

“Hey, Kendie, we didn't get a chance to talk about the party plans, but,” she lowered her voice and flicked a worried look at Marcelene sprawled on the sofa, “I'm workin' on it and maybe we can have a little chat tomorrow?”

Distracted and anxious to get home and charge the phone, I murmured, “Sure, that sounds fine.” I hurried out the door, but Ginger ran after me.

“Wait a minute. I forgot to mention something.” Even in the deep shadows, I could see her biting her lower lip. “Marcelene wanted to know if you could do her a big favor and…”

Resentful, I turned back to her, snapping, “I know. I heard. She wants me to take Fiona back to the shelter. Personally, I think that's heartless. Why can't you take her home with you?”

She scrunched up her nose. “I'd love to but I can't. Churchill's real territorial. He don't mind the dog, but he sure don't much care for other cats. He'd probably skin the poor thing alive. Why don't you take her?”

“Ginger, I've kind of got my hands full right now. Can't you find someone else to take her in?”

“I've tried. Believe me, I've tried, but nobody wants a three-legged cat.”

I stood there mired in indecision for long seconds. “Okay. I'll stop by and pick her up on my way out of town tomorrow. Do you have a carrier?”

“I'll get it out for you.” Stepping forward, she hugged my stiff shoulders. “You're a real peach. I'm sorry to lay this on you, Sugar!” Then she drew back, looking chagrined. “I'm just trying to help simplify Aunt Marcelene's life. That cat is a constant reminder of Jenessa. She cries every time she lays eyes on it.”

After promising to do it, I revved up the Jeep and headed home bursting with expectation. Would I find anything significant on Marcelene's cell phone? Anxious to find out, I floored it. Fortunately, I didn't meet any other oncoming traffic as I sped through the cold, starry night along Lost Canyon Road. When I reached the house and hurried inside, Marmelade met me at the door, mewing loudly. Flooded with the usual self-reproach for leaving her alone so much of the time, I crooned, “I'm sorry, baby,” and lifted her into my arms. “I didn't mean to be so late.” Hurriedly, I plugged in the phone and opened a can of cat food. While waiting, I sent a quick email to Tugg explaining what had happened and that I'd need to leave a little earlier than planned tomorrow. Then I sent the photo of Stilts and a text to Marshall. I checked the phone. Still not charged up enough. Impatiently, I stared at the green light in vain before one of my grandmother's old sayings crept into my head.
A watched pot never boils.
Okay. I headed for the shower. By the time I returned to the kitchen, the phone was charged up enough for me to turn it on. Nerves as tight as a stretched rubber band, I tapped the icons. The e-mailbox was empty, of course, but there were three text messages from Jenessa. I checked my calendar. If I was calculating correctly, the first one had been sent near the beginning of their trip. CELL SERVICE TERRIBLE OUT HERE! ONLY HAVE 1 BAR BUT HOPE YOU GET THIS. HAVING LOADS OF FUN! GREAT HIKING. GORGEOUS MOUNTAIN TRAILS! CAMPED BY A LITTLE WATERFALL LAST NIGHT. She'd attached several photos in separate texts. One showed her smiling, wearing a backpack, standing on the edge of a precipice back-dropped by a pine-filled valley spread out below. No telling where the photo was taken, so that didn't really help me. The second one looked to be a selfie, and pictured her and Nathan each making a goofy face. I studied the rocky background, but again had no clue where it had been taken. The third one, also a selfie, featured a smiling Jenessa standing beside Daisy, holding one of the sugar gliders. The photos were disconcerting enough, but when I noticed there was a voicemail message, I instinctively tensed. Oh boy. This would be difficult.