Something in the Water... (15 page)

“Only a couple more questions,” Rex said. “Just what we weren’t able to ask in the first interview. Have you ever been to Bliss before this trip?”

Angus hesitated. Possibly, this was leading somewhere that would require him admitting his real identity, which he couldn’t do just yet. But then, this was a CDC issue. “Actually,” he said, “yes.”

Rex’s gaze sharpened. “When?”

His heart skipped a beat. Only older people in town
had seen him years ago, and only a few newspaper pictures existed that had been taken during his first stay in Bliss. Though, judging from the call he’d gotten from Jack Hayes, while he’d been still in Peru, Ariel had read about the Core Coal Company, and from what Sammy had said in the past, armchair town historian, Elsinore Gibbet, kept clippings galore about Bliss.

“Mr. Nathan?” The young woman who was probably his daughter was talking to him again. “Are you sure you’re all right?”

She really thought he was about to pass out because of the blood Rex had drawn. His throat tightened. “I’m fine, Ariel,” he said, speaking her name for the first time. “I was here…in the late seventies.”

Rex prodded. “And this was in regards to…?”

“My work. Like I said when we first met, I preserve natural habitats. Places such as Bliss.” Both statements were true, he thought, pleased with himself. He had come to work. And he did preserve habitats. Now, anyway. With any luck, his answers would leave a false impression that would distance him from connections to Core Coal.

Rex continued. “Have you ever been to South America?”

Angus shrugged. “Actually,” he said again, “yes.”

“Where exactly?”

Angus squinted, having no idea why Rex was asking. “All over the place.” He looked once more at the clock, silently begging the fates to be kind. The last thing he needed right now was for Samantha Anderson to walk in and find him with her daughter.
Their daughter.
“I…work to save untouched places,” he repeated. “Natural habitats, as I said. That means I spend a lot of
time in rain forests.” Pausing to take in Rex’s and Ariel’s excited expressions, he rattled off a list of villages, ending with Szuzi.

“Szuzi?” they echoed in unison.

Lawrence Nathan nodded.

Rex Houston whistled.

And then Ariel whispered, “We just hit the mother lode.”

J
EB WAS STARING
through binoculars, lying on his belly on top of one of the buildings at the Outskirts Motel with Michelle McNulty on one side of him and Marsh on the other. Marsh had borrowed his dad’s truck, pulled it to the back of the building, and they’d all climbed up to a roof, using one of the ladders Marsh’s dad kept in the bed for contracting work.

“It’s hot up here,” Marsh whispered.

“I’m burning up,” Michelle agreed. She waved the microfiche printout of the news article showing Angus Lyons’s picture in front of her face like a fan.

“The door’s opening,” Jeb suddenly said. “They’re coming out.” Pressing the binoculars more firmly against his eyes, he tried to concentrate, but it was hard when the girl who’d let him fondle her breasts last night was lying next to him, wearing tight jeans and a halter. Heat was warming Jeb’s skin, and it had little to do with the steamy heat outdoors. When Marsh had seen the hickey on Jeb’s neck, he’d just rolled his eyes as if to say, “Another one bites the dust.”

Jeb was hardly the only one. His grandmother had forgiven Pappy for whatever mysterious transgression had been the root of their quarrel, and now he and Ham
merhead had moved out of Jeb’s folks’ house again. He was back at home with his wife. Of course, that hadn’t stopped everyone from coming over to Jeb’s for breakfast this morning, which meant they’d seen the hickey. Chuckling, they’d exchanged glances, but hadn’t said anything. Still, Jeb had wished the floor would open and swallow him. Shaking his head as if to clear it of confusion, he concentrated as Rex, Ariel and Angus Lyons stepped outside.

“I’m sure it’s Angus Lyons,” whispered Michelle excitedly.

By snooping in the motel office, they’d discovered that he’d registered as Lawrence Nathan. Focusing the lenses, Jeb sharpened the image. Angus’s eyes were scanning the lot worriedly, as if he didn’t want to be seen. Then he waved goodbye to Rex and Ariel, who started walking to the mobile lab, carrying notebooks and blood samples. Jeb glanced from the lenses to the picture in Michelle’s hand, then gave her the binoculars.

“He’s changed a lot,” said Michelle, now passing the binoculars to Marsh.

“It’s him,” Marsh said. Then he added, “Wow. Look at Dr. Houston and Ariel. They’re really going at it.

Guess everything they always said about her and Sheriff Underwood was true.”

“I heard those stories in the diner,” countered Michelle, as Marsh gave the binoculars to Jeb again.

“And I think they’re just rumors.”

Before an argument could begin, Jeb shifted his gaze from the couple, but it was difficult. They were going at it hot and heavy, and when they broke the kiss, it was
only so they could get into the mobile lab and drive away, probably to the nearest bedroom.

“That adds a whole new meaning to burning rubber,” Marsh commented as they zipped out of the parking lot.

Jeb’s thought exactly. Suddenly, his fingers tightened on the binoculars. A car was approaching from the opposite direction, and while Jed wasn’t sure, he thought…

“Samantha Anderson,” Marsh murmured as she steered into the parking space vacated by the mobile lab.

Jeb watched as she got out of the car and slammed the door. “The witch is wearing a white dress,” he said, feeling surprised. It was printed with tiny pink flowers, and she looked good, too, sprucing herself up, as if expecting some action—checking her lipstick in the side-view mirror, smoothing her windblown hair with a manicured hand and straightening the skirt of her dress. She’d scarcely reached room twelve when the door opened. It was too dark to see inside but Angus Lyons seemed to be inviting her in.

“What’s Angus Lyons doing in Bliss again, after all these years?” Jeb wondered aloud.

“And why is one of the witches visiting him?” asked Marsh.

Michelle spoke decisively. “All this looks suspicious. We’d better go find Sheriff Underwood.”

W
ORDS COULDN’T HAVE EXPRESSED
what passed between their eyes. After a long moment, Angus said, “I’m sorry to surprise you this way, Sammy, but if I’d told you it was me I was afraid you wouldn’t come.”

She pressed a hand to her heart, as if that might stop it from beating out of control. “I thought it might be…I
mean, Great-gran told me she thought she’d seen you in town last week.”

He should have known. He’d tried to hide from Great-gran, but she had the vision of a night owl. He eyed Sammy. “You haven’t changed a bit,” he said, the words seeming all wrong for the moment, too superficial, but he didn’t know what else to say. His breath caught. His Sammy had the same long strawberry hair and bright blue eyes that sparkled with wit and intelligence. She weighed a few pounds more, and the wrinkles etching fine lines around her eyes lent her an air of wisdom. But then, she’d always had that, even in her youth.

“You haven’t changed, either.”

They stood there awkwardly. Two people who’d meant the world to each other, who’d hurt each other, then had lived oceans apart. Her hands were trembling, held loosely at her sides, the pink of her nails matching the tiny flowers on the fabric. He wanted to believe those fingers were itching to reach for him. He wanted to pull her into an embrace and squeeze tightly, wrapping her in his arms.

But neither of them moved. He didn’t know how to ask what was uppermost in his mind, so he just said the words. “Is she mine?”

His Sammy drew a sharp breath. “You knew?”

He nodded, quickly explaining the call he’d received from Jack Hayes. “I only found out recently.” And now, he wasn’t sure what he was feeling. Anger, yes. But even after all these years, he loved and trusted Sammy. He was the one who’d shown himself to be not good enough for her, after all, not the other way around. Not a day had passed that he hadn’t thought of her.

Her expression was hard to read. Guilt, concern, relief, anger—all those emotions played on her face. “I wanted to tell you,” she said, speaking slowly and deliberately, as if well aware each word counted. “I…was angry for a long time, and I thought you might come back. I wanted to shut the door on our time together and forget.”

She inhaled deeply, then plunged on. “Ariel asked some questions, but I…I guess I was never really as forthcoming as I told myself I’d been. I only told her I’d had a relationship that hadn’t worked out, but that it was worth it because I’d gotten pregnant with her. But…”

She paused, then continued. “Everyone in town suspected you were her father. I mean, the older people, the ones who were around when…”

“My father and I tried to fleece them?” he finished.

Without asking, he could imagine the rest from the pained expression in her eyes. Samantha Anderson had been the shining light of the community, after all. Bright and beautiful. An honor student and homecoming queen. She could have married any local boy, but she’d soiled herself by nearly running off with him. And then, just as her grandfather, Eli Saltwell, uncovered Angus Sr.’s real motives, so had Sammy.

“Eli and Great-gran haven’t spoken since,” she said. “At least not until this past week. She said she was talking to him when she saw you in town….”

Pain knifed through him. “I’m so sorry, Sammy.”

She shrugged. “Those two always fought like cats and dogs. Probably, something else besides our relationship would have broken them up. And you knew my mother liked you. For years, Gran and I have snuck into town to see Pop, from time to time. But as much as it pains me
to say it, my grandfather isn’t the most pleasant of creatures. Great-gran always had a handful with him.”

Maybe. But the final rift was caused by fights over Sammy taking up with a well-dressed, fast-talking Northerner. Great-gran and Gran, Sammy’s mother, whose husband had passed on, had said Sammy should marry whomever she pleased, and Eli Saltwell, otherwise knew as Pop, had said he intended her to marry a local boy and make her life in Bliss.

“You can meet Ariel. I think…she’d like that. You’re on her mind right now. I think…she’s trying to find someone to settle down with right now, and maybe she wants that part of the past resolved.”

He shook his head in contemplation. “I’m surprised she didn’t ask you more questions.”

“I think she wanted to,” Sammy admitted. “I know that now. I tried to tell myself it didn’t matter, that she was happy and didn’t care to know you identity, but now I realize my manner put her off.” Her voice broke. “I feel terrible about it…to think of her wondering all these years and feeling that she couldn’t talk to me, her own mother!”

“Don’t be so hard on yourself,” he murmured. Judging from her expression, she’d missed him fiercely.

“Probably, I should talk to her first.”

“She was just here, but I didn’t tell her….”

Sammy’s eyes widened.

“She didn’t know,” he explained. “They came to draw another vial of blood. The man she’s seeing, Dr. Houston, thinks there may be a connection between a virus in the spring and one found in Szuzi, a South American village where I stayed after leaving here. She’s beauti
ful, Sammy. All grown up. You did a good job. I can tell. And he seems like a nice guy.”

“He does, doesn’t he?”

He nodded…then felt the moment slipping away. She’d suspected he was here, and she’d come dressed to the nines. Surely, she’d come for herself, not Ariel. Suddenly, his voice caught. “I’ve thought of you, Sammy.” She’d never know how much. Whole nights. He’d lain awake, especially after his wife had passed, knowing he should be thinking of her, not his Sammy. Countless times, he’d tossed fitfully on narrow cots in a jungle or a rain forest, the sweltering heat or his own memories of her turning the sheets damp. He’d stare through the mosquito netting of the tent door, into the impenetrable dark and wonder just exactly where he’d gone wrong, or stare at shimmering blue seas, knowing she was out there somewhere, whole worlds away.

She said, “I googled you.”

It was the last thing he’d expected, and a silver eyebrow raised in surprise. “You did?”

She nodded. “I almost didn’t recognize you. And I couldn’t believe the work you’ve done all over the world.” She hesitated. “I saw a picture of you and your wife.”

All this time, his Sammy thought he’d been married. He shook his head. “She passed a few years ago.”

Her eyes filled with pain, and her voice lowered with compassion. “I’m sorry, Angus. I really am.”

It was the first time she’d spoken his name. He wanted her to do so, again and again. He shrugged. “Me, too.” He paused. “Did you…”

“Marry?” At that, she smiled, looking surprised, almost as if she’d never thought of doing so. “No.”

Pain sliced through him again, feeling like too much to bear. “You should have,” he found himself saying hoarsely.

He shook his head, wishing things had unfolded differently in the past. “I hate to think of you alone….”

Her eyes found his in the dim light. “I’m not now, Angus,” she said. “You’re here now.”

A second later, he was in her arms.

“N
OBODY’S HOME
,” said Marsh, putting his hands on his hips and staring at the yard. It was littered with kids’ toys—a red bicycle with training wheels, two yellow trucks and a Wiffle bat. The name Underwood was painted on the mailbox beside the front door in red-white-and-blue letters.

Jeb pressed the bell a third time and stepped back. “Well, where else can we try?” The sheriff’s office in town had been empty, except for the dispatcher who took calls while he was gone.

“Maybe somebody will come,” said Michelle. “The door’s open.”

“There’s no car in the driveway,” Marsh pointed out.

“A lot of people around here leave their doors open in the summer,” Michelle offered, shoving a hand into the back pocket of her jeans. “Still, it probably means the Underwoods didn’t go out for long.”

“And they took their kids,” said Marsh.

Jeb sighed. “I just wish we knew what Angus Lyons is doing in town.”

“Whatever it is,” said Marsh, “it can’t be good.”

“Especially not if one of the witches is visiting him,” Jeb agreed.

Michelle sighed. “I think those ladies are nice.”

That sounded more like a woman taking up for her own kind, but Jeb didn’t think it was in his best interest to point that out to Michelle, so he didn’t. “We’ve got to tell Sheriff Underwood he’s here. The sooner the better.”

“He might be down at the festival grounds,” Michelle said, “watching people put the finishing touches on the booths. Tomorrow’s going to be a big day. Or maybe he’s following up on the missing recipe book.”

“You’d think the dispatcher would know,” said Jeb, his gaze drifting over Michelle. For a moment, he entirely forgot the matter at hand. Come nightfall, he wanted the matter of Angus Lyons to be off his plate, then maybe he and Michelle could skinny-dip in the spring. He blew out a long, slow breath, then glanced away, wondering if she’d want to keep in touch after summer’s end. In only a few days, after the Harvest Festival, she’d be gone.

“The dispatch did put in a call,” Michelle pointed out.

Marsh considered. “Yeah. But he didn’t pick up.”

Not a comforting thought. “What would happen if we had a real crime here?” Jeb said rhetorically.

“We did,” returned Michelle. “The recipe book was stolen.”

“I meant a murder or something,” Jed said Michelle’s eyes met his and seemed to sizzle. “Things seem pretty tame around here.”

The flaring heat in her eyes carried a different message, as if to say that there was nothing tame where they were concerned. “For now,” he murmured with significance. Later, he’d definitely like to break a few laws with her.

Marsh was getting antsy. “I guess we can wait here.”

“I think we ought to keep an eye on Angus Lyons, though,” said Michelle. “He’s probably up to no good.”

“We can leave a note here,” Jeb suggested.

“No paper,” countered Marsh.

There hadn’t been any in the truck; they’d already looked. Jeb shrugged, then cast a glance toward his friends as if to make sure they were on the same wavelength. His eyes lingered on Michelle once more, and he fought the flush warming his cheeks. It was making him look stupid. Like some dumb schoolkid. He couldn’t believe he’d really put his hands under her shirt and…suddenly, he forced the thoughts away. If he wasn’t careful, he was going to get aroused. Knowing he’d better find a distraction fast, he leaned and tried the doorknob again. When it turned, he said, “There’s probably some paper inside. Under the circumstance, I don’t think Sheriff Underwood will care if we get some, so we can leave a note.”