Windward Secrets (10 page)

Diane tried to see in the front window but dark colored drapes covered the window.

“Let’s go around back,” Claire said.

The back door was locked as well.

“That only leaves the windows,” Claire announced.

“You’re kidding, right?”

“Heck, no. He’s probably the one who’s been breaking into Windward Cottage. Turn-about is fair play.”

Walking to a window at the side of the house, farthest from the driveway, Claire tried reaching it from the ground but it was too high. Looking around she found an old, wooden box and set it under the window. The box gave her just enough height to reach the window, which to her surprise pushed up easily.

“Look at that,” she said, over her shoulder to Diane. “But I still can’t get up high enough to crawl in.”

“Move over a little,” Diane said, mounting the box with Claire. Leaning against the side of the house and lacing her fingers together she made a stirrup with her hands. “Step in my hands and I’ll lift as you pull yourself up.”

It worked. Claire pushed the curtain out of the way, swung her free leg over the windowsill, and stepped into the room. Looking back out the window she whispered, “Diane, get rid of the box and go to the back door. I’ll let you in.”

Claire closed the window and looked around. She was standing in a bedroom. It was a small room with a single bed, dresser and a small closet. The bed was made and the room was neat as a pin. “Hmmm, weird.”

Hurrying to the back door she unlocked it and Diane entered the kitchen.

“This kitchen is spotless,” Diane said, swiftly scanning the room.

“So is his bedroom,” Claire added, with a curious look. “Diane you search the kitchen and living room. I’m going to look for other rooms.”

The kitchen cabinets revealed nothing but dishes and the expected dry goods. Frig and stove were clean. Wendell liked TV dinners, applesauce, pickles, and sour milk that needed to be thrown away. Under the kitchen sink were the normal cleaning supplies one would expect to find.

In the living room, Diane looked behind the furniture, under the sofa cushions, and in the TV cabinet that held Wendell’s big screen TV. Nothing.

Claire found a spotless bathroom and several closets with clothing. A search of the pockets of his clothes revealed nothing unusual. She found a second bedroom a little larger than the first with a double bed and just as tidy as the first. There were no stairs leading to a second floor or attic so Claire tried the only door she had not investigated.

“Bingo!” she called to Diane.

Hurrying to her side Diane joined Claire looking down into the dark. “Where’s the light?”

Claire felt around and found a switch. A quick flip and the stairs were bathed in bright light. “Hurry Diane. I’m getting nervous.”

Diane followed Claire down the stairs to a damp-smelling basement. The basement was unusually well lit and clean. There were shelves lining two walls with miscellaneous tools and neatly lined-up canned goods. The furnace and water heater were tucked under the stairs. The fourth wall was stone.

“There has to be something here,” Claire said. Not willing to give up, she moved to the shelving and started pushing and pulling. Diane did the same on the other wall.

Suddenly there was a creaking sound and the shelving unit Claire was pushing started to slide to the side. A little more effort and Claire had an opening large enough to step through. Without waiting for Diane she felt around and found the light switch. She was nearly blinded by the light.

Standing behind Claire, Diane let out a sharp cry. “Dear God, what is this?”

The room was like a national security control center. There was a wall of monitors over a table with several computers and a keyboard. Walking into the room Claire touched the space bar of the keyboard and the monitors sprang to life. Four of the monitors showed views from different sides of the cottage.

“This isn’t good,” Diane said. “He can see anyone approaching the house, and that would include us.”

Diane’s panties lay on the table beside the keyboard.

On the wall to their right was a bulletin board with a large map of the eastern seaboard of the United States with colored pins stuck at numerous locations. On the wall to the left hundreds of pictures were taped to a white board.

“Get out your cell and start taking pictures,” Claire ordered.

As Diane started snapping pictures of the map, computer area and room in general, Claire walked closer to the wall with the pictures. “Sweet Mother of God,” she whispered, as she felt the vomit rising in her throat. The pictures were of young girls; some clothed, some in underwear, and some nude. Some of the children appeared not to know they were being photographed while others stared at the camera in terror. Some were tied up, while others cowered against a wall trying to escape the person behind the camera.

Claire pulled her cell from her pocket and started snapping as fast as she could. When she got to the bottom right corner of the wall she froze. Her own eleven year old face was looking directly at her. There were photos of the Carter children and Will. They were playing on the beach almost directly in front of Wendell’s cottage. As she moved lower she gasped. There was Betsy, dirty with a tear-stained face, and her once innocent blue eyes wild with terror. She was dressed only in underpants. Her blond curly hair was tangled and matted with dirt. Her body was scratched and dirty. Her little hands looked like they had been digging or clawing at something hard. Her nails were broken and bleeding. Claire grabbed her stomach and bent over. She had to get out of here before she was sick.

“Diane, run!”

Diane reached for her panties.

“Leave them. Evidence. Turn out the lights,” Claire yelled, as she ran through the doorway.

The two women pushed the shelves back into place and ran up the stairs.

Claire in the lead yelled, “Lights.”

They tore through the house and slammed the back door closed. They didn’t care if they made noise. They didn’t care if anyone saw them. They ran for their bikes as fast as they could.

Diane felt her phone vibrating in her pocket. “Yes!”

“Diane, he’s coming. Get out of there,” Jill yelled, frantically.

“We’re on our way,” Diane responded, as they reached the bikes. “Claire, he’s coming from town.”

The women dragged the bikes to the road and peddled as hard as they could toward Caroline’s location. Caroline was parked on a pull-off overlooking the ocean and saw them coming. Getting out of the car she waited.

Claire and Diane turned the bikes into the pull-off and collapsed. Both women fell to the ground lungs ready to explode and legs that felt like they were made of burning rubber. Claire burst into uncontrollable sobs. Diane reached over to comfort her. Caroline rushed to their sides and dropped to her knees. “What’s wrong? What happened?”

Claire held up her hand to stop Caroline and then crawled to the edge of the road and vomited. Lying down on the hard-packed sand she curled into the fetal position and wept.

Shaken, Caroline looked at Diane.

Diane shook her head and held her index finger to her lips. “Give her some space,” she whispered.

***

Jill was waiting on the porch when they pulled in the drive at Windward Cottage. Claire walked past Jill like a zombie. Jill watched her pass and then hurried to the car to help with the bikes. “What happened? What’s wrong with Claire?

“Let’s go inside and I’ll tell you everything,” Diane said.

Ike was excited to see Claire, but she barely acknowledged him. He followed her up the stairs and laid down beside the bathtub as she lowered herself into the steaming water. She washed her hair vigorously and scrubbed her body with soap and a stiff brush in an attempt to rid herself of the invisible filth. The harder she scrubbed, the harder she sobbed. Finally, lying back in the tub she closed her eyes and tried to erase the images of the children seared into her brain. It was no good. Her muscles would heal but she knew her mind never would.
All those children. Their terror and pain. What about their families? She vowed she would make him pay.

***

Claire didn’t come down for dinner.

Diane told Jill and Caroline everything they had seen in Wendell’s house.

“Dear God, she must be devastated,” Caroline said, pushing her plate of half eaten food away. “I can’t imagine what she’s going through.”

Jill stood up and started to clear the table. “Where do we go from here, Diane?”

“I don’t know. We have to wait until Claire’s ready to talk and then decide.”

Ike wandered into the kitchen head down and dragging his feet.

“Oh, poor guy,” Caroline said, reaching down and rubbing his back. “He really loves her.”

“Do you think we should call the police,” Jill asked, opening the back door for Ike.

Diane responded sharply. “Surely, you don’t mean the local police? Chief Peterson is totally worthless, and I’m sure poor, Deputy O’Reilly isn’t allowed to take on any responsibility for fear of upstaging Peterson. No, we’ll wait and see what Claire says.”

“What about Spence or her brother Will?” Jill inquired.

“I think that’s Claire’s decision. She has to be a wreck after seeing those pictures.”

“Did you look at them Diane?” Caroline asked, meekly.

“I only got a glimpse before Claire charged out of the room. I’m pretty sure she got most of them on her phone. It took real strength to keep shooting when she saw what the pictures were. And so many, my God, I can’t believe it.”

Ike pawed at the screen door. Jill let him in and locked both doors behind him. The women followed him into the parlor. Ike slowly climbed the stairs while the women took seats; each picked up a book, or a magazine, in a useless attempt to occupy their minds.

Finally, Diane threw her book on the coffee table with a slap that made Jill and Caroline jump. “Jill, have you heard from Drew?”

“No. Not a word,” Jill answered.

“How much do you really know about him, Jill?”

Jill looked up wearily and answered. “He has been divorced for over ten years. He says he and his wife parted friends; they had grown apart. Her name is Melinda. She’s a nurse. She blamed him for working too much and he thinks she was probably right. They have two grown kids, a girl and a boy; and three grandchildren. She remarried about five years ago, a doctor from the hospital where she worked, and apparently is happy as a clam now.”

“What about him personally?” Caroline asked.

Jill looked like she was ready to cry.

“This is ridiculous. There is nothing strange about Drew. He’s very nice, as normal as we are.”

Jill closed her eyes and then opened them suddenly and looked directly at Caroline.

“I don’t know what you want me to say, Caroline. We like being together. It’s comfortable. We like the same music, the same jokes, some of the same movies and books.” Looking up she added, “If you’re asking if he’s acted inappropriately in any way, the answer is no. There’s definitely an attraction but neither one of us has acted on it. Come on…we’re mature adults, not teenie boppers with raging hormones,” Jill giggled, “Well…maybe there’s a little elevation in hormones.”

“Have you seen anything at his cottage that may be out of character for a consultant?” Diane pushed.

“Like what? I don’t know what’s normal for someone who does his kind of work,” Jill replied, defensively.

“What’s his cottage like?” Caroline asked, using a lighter tone.

Feeling less under attack Jill looked at Caroline. “He’s a very neat person. Let’s the dishes pile up a bit, but other than that it looks fine.”

“What about the bedroom?” Diane quizzed.

Jill glared at Diane. “I have not been in his bedroom. I have no clue what it looks like.”

Caroline perked up and with interest asked, “Have you been in his bathroom?”

“Honestly, you two. Yes, I used his bathroom once. What are you after?”

Diane moved forward on the sofa and rested her forearms on her thighs. “I think we need to be sure he can be trusted.”

Caroline thought she saw a flicker of doubt sweep across Jill’s face for just a split second. “What did you see in the bathroom, Jill?”

Jill curled the edges of the magazine in her lap and then looked up. “There were a lot of pill bottles. More than you would think a healthy man would have.”

“Did you read the labels?” Diane asked.

Jill hesitated looking guilty. “Yes.”

“Well…?” Caroline insisted, impatiently.

“There were a lot of vitamins, blood pressure medicine, an anti-anxiety, eye drops…and several prescription sleeping pills. I thought it was unusual to have so many sleeping pills.”

“Maybe we better pay a little visit to his cottage tomorrow,” Diane suggested.

“No. Diane really,” Jill said, in earnest. “Drew’s okay. I’m sure of it. What could he possibly have to do with the children, or Wendell, for that matter?”

“I don’t know,” Diane admitted. “But, I think we have to suspect everyone in the area. How could that many children disappear and nobody knew about it? There were so many pictures that you would think it would have made the national news. I have a real bad feeling about this.”