The Choice (22 page)

Marcie didn’t wait for a reply. She went back inside, bumped by an uneasy vibe, which escalated when she stepped through the doorway. She kept moving farther into the cottage, through the wooden archway dividing the kitchen and cozy front room. She paused before the wide picture window in this once comfortable, easy space, filled with an overstuffed sofa and cozy furnishings, her inside place to meditate. She stepped around a side table and ran her hand over the packed four-shelf bookshelf, once again nauseated by an uneasy feeling. She moved down the short dark hallway with light pine finished walls and touched the cross, the only adornment outside her granny’s room, one of two tiny bedrooms across from each other. Both bedrooms contained a small closet, double bed and a dresser. The bathroom at the end of the hall was small but modern. A new addition added to the cottage ten years prior. The original loo, as her granny so fondly called it, was an old outhouse out back, one to this day, Marcie still used.

She pushed open her bedroom door, and the knots in her stomach tightened. Something wasn’t right. But what? Her gut ached when she realized her peaceful tranquil space had been invaded.

“Marcie.”

She started. Sam stood behind her.

“You okay?”

She shook her head. “I don’t know, something’s wrong, I think someone was in here.” Her voice trembled.

Sam brushed past Marcie into her cozy bedroom with walls of muted lavender, adorned with a dream weaver above the bed, framed sketches of a wolf, bear, and eagle mounted on the walls and a small plate glass window, scrutinizing everything the way a cop does. “Anything missing? Come on Marcie, look around you, has anything been moved?”

His tone turned all business, demanding, but at the same time helped her focus.

She scanned her room from the doorway. On her neat pine dresser was a small hand carved jewelry box. A small kerosene lamp sat on her bedside table. Her grandmother's patchwork quilt covered the double size bed. “No, no, I don’t think anything’s moved. It’s just a feeling that someone was in my room. Can’t you feel it? You know, when you go into someone’s house, or someone comes around you who’s not a good person, and you get that icky heeby-jeeby feeling? And then you feel your hair prickling up the back of your neck because there’s something dark about them?” She jammed her fingers through her hair. How could she get him to understand? “That feeling’s a warning and I’m getting it here now.” Her hand shook as she rubbed her stomach. “Whoever was here left that ick behind. This isn’t a good person.” Marcie waved her hands in the air, trying to send it away.

“I’ll look around outside.” Marcie didn’t realize Diane hovered behind her. She left, and for the first time, Marcie wasn’t hiding the spiritual side of herself. This is who she was.

Jesse searched her granny’s dark windowless room. “Marcie, where’s the light?”

“You’ll have to light the kerosene lamp in the kitchen, there’s no electricity here.”

“Leave it Jesse, go help Diane look around outside.”

And then Sam was beside her, holding her arm, being ever so much her knight in shining armor.

“You believe me?” Astonishment filled her heart with a sense of unfamiliar wholeness and yet, scared the hell out of her. The caring in his eyes instantly switched over to watchful protection. No man had ever looked at her that way. He didn’t need to say the words now, she already knew. She wanted so badly to be held by him, except his wary distrust was like an old, miserable dog between them. It’d be the hardest thing she ever did. But now she knew there was a chance after all, to shake the doubt, to repair what she’d done.

He squeezed her arm, not hard. In a way, it was safe for him to touch her. Granny always said her place, her land, was magical. And all who set foot with good intention would heal.

Sam led her back to the kitchen. She closed her eyes and breathed deep. The murky, invasive feeling wasn’t as strong here.

“Nothing outside, it’s pretty dry so I can’t see any tracks. The long grass’s trampled out back. Oh and I saw your sheep.” Diane was fast and thorough. Jesse tromped in behind her.

“Not mine, believe it or not, there’s feral sheep on this island. They turn up when you least expect it.”

Sam rested his hands on her shoulders, in a familiar way. “If someone was here, they’re long gone. Maybe you should think about locking your door.”

She needed to think of something else, so she pulled away. “I’m going to put some coffee on. Can we stay a while? I want to get some things in order here before I pack some clothes.”

Sam rummaged through her tincture cupboard. She knew what he looked for. “Just so you know Sam, I don’t smoke marijuana. I don’t have any, never did. You should find a good supply of oregano for colds and flu, thyme, sage and peppermint. All legal last I checked. But since you don’t trust me, please search the entire cabin.”

His hand stilled. When he faced her, his shoulders softened.

“Marcie, you need to understand, I’m not doing this to hurt you.” He sounded rather defensive.

She cut him off before he could finish. “I know you’re not, and I do understand why you need to do it. What I did was stupid and wrong. I also made you a promise. To tell the truth and not withhold anything.”

Sam leaned back against the counter, and Marcie stood across the kitchen. She wanted to take a step toward him, but feared the strong pull. So, she stood there, her gut twisting into knots. Sam covered his arms across his chest. The window of opportunity slipped away.
Stop being such a coward
.

“You got any food? I’m getting hungry.” She looked up at him and smiled. There was some effort in his eyes. She couldn’t quite put her finger on it, but he hadn’t turned away. He shielded her in a way a man does for a woman he cares about.

“As a matter of fact I do.” She brushed past Sam to the row of pine cupboards below the narrow fir counter, next to the sink. “Your choices are macaroni or homemade soup: ham and bean or turkey vegetable?”

“You can your own soup?” Sam grinned boyishly “You continue to surprise me. Hey guys, want some homemade soup? I’ve never had homemade soup someone canned. Jesse, has your wife ever made you homemade soup?”

“No Sam, my wife works like me. We share the cooking. But if you’re going to heat some up, I’ll eat. Guess there’s no chance of grabbing a burger around here.”

Everyone frowned at Jesse. “Well how’s a grown man supposed to survive on just soup?”

“It’ll do you good.” Sam glanced down at Jesse’s large belly.

Jesse scowled and joined Diane seated at the old nicked table, her notepad wide open, reviewing something she’d written.

“No soup for me, but I’ll take a coffee. Thanks, Marcie.” She held up her palm cutting through the chatter. “Listen guys, we need to sit down and go over Marcie’s involvement with Dan McKenzie. We’re getting sidetracked. Also, I need to know everything about his business partner, Richard McCafferty. And what Dan’s link is to Lance Silver.”

“Richard’s a friend of mine, he’s not like Dan.” A vice-like wave stomped out any hope of not involving her friends. “Diane, let’s talk about me, and what I did. I’ll tell you anything, just leave Richard and Maggie out of this.”

Diane, Jesse and Sam focused in on her. They weren’t going to back off. So she turned away and focused on making coffee.

“Who’s Maggie?” Sam abandoned the soup he was stirring on the stove and leaned heavily against the counter beside her. She was pinned.

“Maggie’s Richard’s wife, she’s not involved in any of this.”

“Right now Marcie, nobody’s being left out. Let me tell you how this is going to go down. You’re going to tell us about everybody. All your friends, Dan’s, and everyone who’s growing marijuana on this island, the mainland, and whether you think they’re connected or not is irrelevant. I want to know every deep, dark secret about everybody. Don’t hold anything back. Do I make myself clear?”

“Sam.” Admonishment laced Diane’s tone. When Marcie glanced over, Diane’s face seemed filled with gentle support. “Honey listen, we’re not going to hurt anyone. We need a clear picture of all the players, including bystanders. What you may not think is relevant could be key in our investigation.” Her voice softened with understanding.

Did she trust her? To a point, except one thing was clear, she needed to remove all suspicion from Maggie, Richard too, as neither deserved to be dragged into this mess—her mess. “Okay, but I want your word you’ll leave Maggie out of it. Dan’s made a mess out of so many innocent people’s lives, probably more than I know. They don’t deserve to be tarnished with the same brush.”

“Marcie, we’re not going to railroad anyone. But there are a lot more people involved than what you’ve told me. And we know there’s a connection to Lance Silver considering the amount of drugs this guy’s moving. He’s got a lot of people under him. So I want details on all of them, including Silver being the master of ceremony at the upcoming Fireman’s Ball.”

A wary shudder slid up Marcie’s spine. She knew Lance, kind of, sort of—enough to stay well away from him. A warning Granny and Sally drilled into her over and over—a warning she heeded to this day.

Lance had a private estate on the west side of Las Seta, overlooking the bay. It was directly across from the private island, the one the timber company bought, logged and flogged, and burned the scrap on, which smoked out of control for the entire summer, five years earlier. Lance had been furious with the timber company, as they all were. But when the charred bodies of two loggers from the timber company were found tied to the dock of that tiny private island, she knew who was responsible. She also knew there’d never be any evidence, or witnesses, to tie Lance to the murder.

Everyone on this island knew Lance and his completely secluded, fenced and alarmed lavish estate. He was a philanthropist, at times social with his community. But mostly an isolated recluse, who at times flew off seemingly on a whim to another estate he owned in another part of the country. She knew he was connected, and one of the largest marijuana dealers in the area. And no one she ever wanted to cross.

“Look Lance is always MC. He likes to be acknowledged at our community functions by the residents. So everyone will believe he gives something back to this community he loves so much.” Diane and Sam roasted her with a hard look. Jesse slid around in his chair and studied her with concern. Maybe he could see the fear she tried to hide.

“Those are his words, not mine. Look just talking about him makes me ill. I need to sit down.” Her knees were shaking. Jesse pulled out a chair, and Sam supported her arm. Sam squatted and rubbed her hands. She could see the concern on his face.

“Granny and Sally would never allow me anywhere near him, some of the other islanders either. They always said darkness seeks out the light to destroy it. And Lance is so powerful. Granny and Sally wouldn’t even take him on. I’ve never seen them back away from someone before. They told me sometimes there are battles we were not meant for. I’ve done a lot of stupid things, but I’ve avoided Lance every time he sought me out. I never did business with him. I’m not that stupid. There’s something about Lance that reeks of impure strength, once in bed with him, you’re never out. He’s no one I want to cross. He’s unpredictable. He’s dangerous.”

“How do you know this much about him if you’re not around him?”

“I listen, Sam.” She pulled her hands away and crossed her arms. “Even though this island is a haven for me and the others who live here, there are families here, people, doing things they shouldn’t be—things that aren’t right. You have to know the history of this place. In the fifties, marijuana crops were the main agriculture on this island, maybe even still today. People who live here are secretive to outsiders. And if you choose to live here, there’s this pact, an understanding, you have. If you want peace, you say nothing. I grew up here. People who live here knew my granny. She had history, roots here. So through Granny, people here trust me. I listen when they talk. When you’re a permanent resident, with history, you hear what’s really going on.”

“Lance moved here years ago, wealthy even then. He turned this island upside down to build his lavish estate with cutting edge solar power, establishing his operation. Everything I’ve told you I heard third person. But it’s reliable. And no, I’ll not give you names of who told me. I don’t care what you threaten me with. The information is from honest folks who know what’s going on. And if I tell you their names, and you talk to them, they’ll get hurt. We live here. We want to live in peace. Do you understand?” She was so agitated by the thought of bringing harm to people here. Sam must have seen it because he squeezed her arm in an understanding kind of way before standing up and leaning against the deep porcelain sink.

“What I did this year was find spots to grow marijuana around Gardiner, in the seclusion of the isolated state park land. I’d never do anything on this island. I’d never tarnish Granny’s property that way. Mother Mary, if Lance ever found out…” She shook her head and closed her eyes when a chill shot up her spine. “You’re right about one thing, he controls who grows here and how much. But I don’t know the details; I don’t want to know.”

“Tell me about the outdoor gardens you planted.” Diane scribbled notes as Marcie explained.

“Dan taught me how to find isolated spots close to a water source so I wouldn’t have to haul water. That would be time consuming, difficult and a definite red flag. In those hidden clearings with plenty of sun, he showed me ways to hide the garden. Like finding an alder tree; he’d use a hatchet, cut a circle around the circumference of the tree and then spray poison into it. The alder would die and drop its leaves. That way the garden’s still sheltered and hidden from the choppers above but gets lots of sun. Then I’d till the soil with a shovel, work in some lime and plant the rooted cuttings.”