Authors: Debbie Viguie
It was hard to look at Cindy now and think of how she had been when they met. She had been so timid, so afraid back then. Since then, though, she’d been evolving into a tigress. As to when or how he’d fallen in love with her, he couldn’t say. It had just happened. A thousand tiny moments had come together to build something strong and powerful.
He had helped change Cindy. He knew that. But she had done just as much to change him. Because of her he had friends that were like family. He belonged. And he was willing to risk getting hurt by being close to her.
“Okay, very good, now say the first thing that comes to mind,” Arnold said, his voice interrupting the spell.
“I love you.” Cindy, Jeremiah, Flynn, and Dorothea had all said it at the same time. With his sharp hearing Jeremiah could also make out a few other similar sentiments around the room. Some of the other things spoken, though, surprised him.
“You blinked first. I win.”
“Did you remember to turn the stove off?”
“Well, that was awkward.”
“I think you’re getting gray hairs in your eyebrows. Can you dye those?”
“Dang, you’ve gained a lot of weight.”
“I told you this was going to be stupid.”
It was a mixture of male and female voices that had less than romantic things to say to their significant other. It was bewildering. Although he thought for a moment he caught Cindy smirking at a couple of them.
“Remember, this is not a competition. Not between each other and not with the other couples,” Arnold chided gently.
“If it was, we’d totally be winning,” Cindy whispered.
Jeremiah barely held back a laugh. He’d just been thinking the same thing.
“Actually, I think you’ll find we’re winning,” Flynn whispered next to Jeremiah.
Jeremiah turned and regarded the older man who had an impish look on his face.
“No way!” Cindy whispered, barely keeping her voice down.
“Care to bet on it?” Flynn asked.
“Okay, that’s enough. Please don’t bet him. He likes to bet on everything and he usually wins,” Dorothea said. “Honestly, it still amazes me sometimes that on our first trip here I didn’t lose him to the casino.”
“Okay, settle down everyone,” Arnold said. “It’s not social time, it’s work time.”
Dorothea actually giggled like a schoolgirl and Flynn whispered, “I don’t think that word means what he thinks it means.”
Without warning a piercing wail filled the building.
12
Cindy jumped, startled, as the alarm ripped through the air, shredding whatever sense of calm and tranquility had been present. She glanced up at Arnold who looked completely startled. She watched him quickly pull himself together.
Arnold clapped his hands together twice. “Alright everyone, this is a fire drill. Please move quickly and safely to your nearest exit and meet me outside under the large palm tree.”
Jeremiah was on his feet in a flash, and, after giving Cindy a hand up, he turned and helped Dorothea and Flynn up as well. Together they exited through one of the sliding glass doors and moved to the palm tree where they were the first to arrive.
“In all the years we’ve been coming here we’ve never had to do a fire drill,” Dorothea said.
“Maybe it’s a new policy,” Cindy said, not wanting to worry the other woman.
One thing was clear to her. Arnold had been just as startled as everyone else in that room when the alarm went off.
Is it a false alarm or is there actually a fire somewhere on the property?
she wondered.
She could tell Jeremiah was wondering the same thing. She reached out and took his hand. He closed his around hers and it made her feel safe and secure. Warmth flooded through her as it always did at his touch.
“Mark, you okay?”
A hand descended on Mark’s shoulder and he jumped. He looked up and saw Liam standing over him, an amused look on his face. “Diaper duty last night?” Liam asked.
“How can you tell?” Mark asked with a yawn.
“Well, you’re usually not in the habit of falling asleep at your desk for one thing.”
“The twins kept tag teaming all night. You know, I swear sometimes they do it on purpose, but just when it’s my night to deal with it. They never do that to Traci on her nights.”
Liam chuckled. “You think they’re plotting against you now, wait another year or two. Then you’ll be in real trouble.”
“Thank you so much for that,” Mark said sarcastically.
“Is that paper on your desk that didn’t manage to hold your attention urgent?”
Mark glanced down. “No, it’s a department memo. You’ve probably got a copy on your desk. You know that tech guy up in northern California who killed his wife last year, and it was all in the news for weeks?”
“Jason Todd? What about him?”
“Apparently they can’t put together a jury pool up there because there was too much press.”
“And everyone already thinks he’s guilty?”
“Exactly. Looks like they’re going to move the trial down here.”
“When?”
“End of next month.”
“And why are we getting a memo about it?”
“The department’s been advised by our colleagues up north that there’s a high likelihood that there are going to be demonstrators.”
“Lovely,” Liam said with a frown.
“Yeah, I guess they can’t move this guy two feet without people getting wind of it and showing up. There’s also already been two assassination attempts against him.”
“So now it gets to be our problem.”
“Exactly. So, apparently a plan is being worked up to handle things once he gets down here. They’ll keep us informed as we get closer, etc., etc.”
“Sounds like a good time to take vacation.”
“It would be, but the captain’s already put his foot down on that one. No one’s going anywhere.”
“Thank you northern California for that,” Liam said, rolling his eyes. “Have you had breakfast yet?”
“Is it a bad thing if I tell you that I can’t honestly remember?”
“Yes, come on, let’s get out of here for a while.”
Mark followed Liam outside. In the parking lot he yawned again.
“I think I should drive,” Liam said.
“Good idea,” Mark told him as he handed over the keys.
Ten minutes later they were sitting down in a coffee shop. As soon as they’d ordered Liam leaned forward.
“So, what did you find yesterday?” he asked.
“Quite a lot,” Mark admitted. “Unfortunately all of it just led to more questions and no answers.”
Liam nodded slowly, frowning as he did so.
“What is it?” Mark asked.
“You figured out a while back who Paul really was, didn’t you?”
“Yeah, I got his birth name and a rough idea of what his life was like before he assumed the other kid’s identity.”
“So, here’s what I don’t understand. What are you looking for now? You got the answers you set out to find after his death.”
“Traci has asked me the same thing.”
“Then what’s the deal?”
“I guess I just don’t feel like the case is closed, at least, not for me.”
“Maybe what you really mean is that you haven’t personally found closure. That’s not the same thing.”
“I know that,” Mark said, feeling defensive. “And you’re right, I haven’t, but there’s more to it than that.”
“Then tell me what it is,” Liam urged.
Mark sighed. “I think Paul’s real father is still out there somewhere. The man needs to be brought to justice for his crimes.”
“Agreed, but how do you plan on pulling that off? You’re not with the F.B.I., you’re a Pine Springs cop. You don’t have the resources to track this man across the country if he still even exists. And the trail is so cold at this point that there’s very little use in trying.”
“I know that, but it still keeps me up at night sometimes. Then, yesterday, something happened. His widow came to me with a coded piece of paper and a key that a lawyer had delivered to her after Paul didn’t show up for his annual meeting. After months of having no clue what to do with them, she gave them to me.”
Liam frowned. “So, he had an annual meeting with this lawyer and had given him instructions to pass these things on if something happened to him and he failed to attend one of those meetings?”
“Apparently so.”
“That sounds like the threat people are always making in movies. ‘If anything happens to me, this all goes public’ sort of thing.”
“I know.”
“So, what did the message say?”
“I don’t know. I’m going to need some time to figure out how to decode it. I’m hoping it will give me some clue about the key, because I haven’t the foggiest notion where to start on figuring out what it goes to.”
“And the evidence you were worried about yesterday that could have been destroyed?”
“I’m not sure it wasn’t. It turns out the attorney who gave her those things was killed in a car accident. When I started asking questions one of the partners at the firm began shredding documents and fired the guy’s assistant.”
“Would she be the one I tracked down yesterday?”
“Yes, thank you. She led me to where the attorney kept files he didn’t want others to see. One of them had a picture of Paul in it and pages of writing in that same code. Apparently they were friends since college.”
Liam whistled low. “You need to get on cracking that code as soon as possible.”
“I know.”
“What do you think the attorney’s pages contain, an account of Paul’s identity and real life? Or maybe he’s just the tip of the iceberg.”
“That’s what I need to figure out.”
Liam nodded. “Well, I’ll help you in any way I can.”
“Thanks, I need all the help I can get. Know any good code breakers?”
“Sadly, no. My grandfather was, but I never got the chance to learn anything from him.”
“Is this the same grandfather who was the gun collector?” Mark asked.
“Yup.”
“He had to be an interesting guy.”
Liam just smiled.
Mark’s phone chimed and he pulled it out of his pocket. Traci had sent a text asking if he could pick up a few things at the grocery store on his way home. He replied that he would.
“It looks like I missed a call from Jeremiah,” he said.
“Must have been while you were sleeping.”
The rabbi had left a message and Mark played it.
It’s me. I need to know if M’s wife knows what room he was in. Also, can you tell us if M was a wealthy man?
Mark called back but it went to voicemail. He waited for the beep and then said, “As to your first question, I’ll find out. To your second, yes, he was a rich man,” and hung up.
Liam started chuckling.
“What?” Mark asked.
“For a moment there I thought you were going to break into a song from
Fiddler on the Roof
.”
“That would have amused you too much.”
“So, you’re going to deprive us both of the pleasure of you singing?”
“No, I’m saving us both from my singing. One day you’ll thank me for it, trust me.”
He called the station and a minute later was talking to the captain.
“Hi, it’s Mark. Jeremiah and Cindy want to know if we know which room Malcolm was staying in.”
“Why, have they found something?”
“Not that I’m aware of, but apparently they need to know the room.”
“Yes, his wife told me when she brought this all to my attention. Let me grab my notes.”
Mark could hear the sound of pages being flipped through in a notebook. Finally the captain picked the phone back up. “Bungalow nine. He always gave her his room number when he was staying somewhere, just in case.”
“Thanks, I’ll pass it on.”
“Call me the moment they know anything.”
“I will,” Mark promised. He hung up and called Jeremiah again.
“Nine,” he said when the voicemail came on.
He hung up just as their food arrived.
Jeremiah had felt his phone go off twice while they were waiting to go back inside the building. When they finally got the go ahead he lingered behind for a quick moment and checked his messages. They were both from Mark and were short and to the point.
He deleted them and then moved to catch up with the others. “Bungalow nine and rich,” he whispered in Cindy’s ear.
She nodded to indicate that she understood.
For the rest of the morning session he noticed that both of them had trouble focusing. It was with relief that they headed out when dismissed. They had about twenty minutes before lunch was served so they quickly made their way back to their bungalow to discuss what to do next.
As soon as the door had closed behind them Cindy turned to Jeremiah. “Bungalow nine, isn’t that Tristan and Beth’s room?”
“Yes.”
“Well, how are we going to break in there and search for clues?”
“I’ve been thinking about that,” Jeremiah said. “Whoever was involved with his disappearance erased him from the reservation system. We can assume they also went through the trouble of going through the room carefully when getting rid of his stuff. So, I doubt that barring a full forensics sweep of the room we will turn up anything of note.”
“So, what do we do then?”
“We make them think they missed something. Then we watch to see who responds. I’m guessing that whatever they did with his stuff, they didn’t just toss it in one of the dumpsters. They probably thought of a better way to dispose of it and hopefully we can trick them into trying to do the same with the evidence we manufacture.”
“What did you have in mind, exactly?”
“I think our man Malcolm left a journal with some very interesting things written in it. The only question is, where do we get a journal?” Jeremiah mused.
Cindy went instantly over to the closet and opened her bag. A moment later she returned with a brown leather notebook in hand. He took it from her in surprise and noted with relief that it was blank inside.
“How did you just happen to have this?” he asked.
She shrugged. “The only retreats of any kind I’ve been to they’ve always had us bring our Bible and a journal to write in. I brought both here. Habit I guess.”
“You are a genius,” he said with a grin.
“Thanks. How do you know that whoever is behind his disappearance won’t just burn it or something?”
“We need to put something compelling in there that will force their hand, make them go check him or the things that were in his room.”
“Or maybe both in case they can’t get to one but they can get to the other,” Cindy suggested.
“Good idea.” He glanced at the clock. “It’s time for lunch. We can think about what we want to write and then set our plan in motion just before dinner. We’ll just need a way to get Tristan and Beth to find the book and turn it in.”
“Oh, I’m already working on a plan for that,” Cindy said.
“Good.”
They went and had a quick lunch. When they returned Jeremiah sat down and began to make fake journal entries for the first couple of days of Malcolm’s stay at the retreat center. While he mentioned the names of a couple of the staff he made sure to leave things generic enough that no one would be able to tell that the entries were faked.