A Haunting Dream (A Missing Pieces Mystery) (22 page)

“You’ve been a bad girl, huh? Cheer up. It’s not that bad. They only want to help. Sometimes they just don’t know how.”

“I get that.”

She smiled and started toward the coffee shop.

“Ann?”

“Cold feet? It’s not always easy being the hero, is it?”

“No. And I was just wondering—does it get any easier dealing with it?”

“I lost years of my life in hell for it,” she snarled. “What do you think?”

“Sorry.”
Why had I asked her
?

“Don’t worry. You’ll never experience the nightmares I have as long as you live here in this sugarplum world. Stay here, Dae. Don’t try to follow Kevin and me when we leave. Stay safe.”

I didn’t reply. I would never understand her.

Tim pulled up a minute later. “About time. Where have you been?”

“Talking to my father,” I said. “Like I told you. Let’s go.”

Chapter 24

I
gave Port’s wallet to Chief Michaels. The scrap of
paper with my father’s name on it wasn’t in it. I was standing by my decision not to involve him.

I sat silently in front of the chief’s desk and listened as he lectured me about honor, decency, my standing in the community and spending too much time with convicted felons.

“It’s not like it was written on his forehead, Chief,” I retorted, feeling like a limp rag. “It was a business deal. It happens all the time. I don’t check out my contacts to see if they have prison records. Port was very highly recommended to me by several people I trust.”

“Well maybe you’ll rethink that policy in the future, Mayor.” He tossed Port’s large file on his desk. “He worked for Dillon Guthrie, Dae. That’s probably what killed him. It could’ve killed you too. Horace would’ve killed me then died of grief himself if we’d found
you
in a trash barrel tomorrow.”

He paused as though he was waiting for me to add something. I told him everything I knew—or thought I knew—about why Guthrie was in Duck, at least.

But I could tell he took it all in like a grain of sand.

Kowalski slammed into the chief’s office during that brief silence. His face was red—anger or embarrassment—it was hard to say. But it was directed at me.

“So we find a dead man in a trash can and who’s at the scene? Mayor Dae O’Donnell. We find that same man is a felon and who is he in town to see? Again, Mayor Dae O’Donnell. What’s wrong with this picture, Your Honor?”

“I have a bad habit of being in the wrong place at the right time.”

He slammed his fist on the chief’s desk. “I could put you in a federal prison for obstruction and accessory.”

“Not in
my
town,” the chief said. “You’re speaking to an elected official, Agent. Mind your manners.”

“Fine.” Kowalski turned a ladder-back chair to face me, then sat astride it. “I want to know what the connection is between the mayor, Dillon Guthrie and Port Tymov. I want to know how that plays into Sparks’s death, his daughter’s kidnapping and Tymov’s death. We can just sit right here until I have those answers, Mayor. I wouldn’t want you to think that I don’t
respect
you.”

So we spent the next few hours reviewing in minute detail everything I had said or done since I’d met Port Tymov. I kept my mouth shut about my father, however. Concealing that part of the story from Kowalski was the only thing that got me through his interrogation.

“Are you sure the last time you saw Tymov was at your shop?” Kowalski asked for the tenth time.

“Yes. He was with Dillon Guthrie. They were interested in buying something.”

“And that’s where Tymov lost his wallet?”

“Yes. I was going to give it back to him after the barbecue. But you know how that went.”

“You just happened to walk over to that trash can and try to move it so people could put trash in it. Is that right?”

“No. I went to help our town manager move the trash can. We looked inside and found the body.”

“What did Guthrie buy at your shop?” Kowalski fixed his stare on me as though by doing so he could force some case-breaking revelation out of me.

“He didn’t buy anything. The only thing he wanted was something I wouldn’t sell.”

Kowalski laughed. It was a mean sound. “That doesn’t make any sense. Why wouldn’t you sell something to a wealthy collector? Oh, right. You knew he’d killed Sparks from your earlier visions, so you wouldn’t do business with him.”

“Not exactly. The fact that he’d killed Chuck obviously made me scared
not
to sell anything to him. But I couldn’t sell what he wanted, no matter what. It’s important for me to keep it. He understood that.”

There were a few blessed moments of silence. Chief Michaels had stayed in the room with me. He was dozing in his chair. Too many late nights. He was used to Duck being quiet.

Kowalski shifted in his chair. “That was nice of him, huh? A high-powered smuggler came to your shop to buy something. You wouldn’t give it to him, and he smiled and left. How
stupid
do you think I am?”

The chief made a snorting noise and tried to pretend he hadn’t been sleeping.

“I don’t think you’re stupid at all,” I told Kowalski. “Just a little too wrapped up in your version of how the world runs to be able to see what else is happening.”

“Thanks for that opinion.”

The moments ticked by on the big clock above the chief’s head.

“Is that about all, Agent?” Chief Michaels woke up and looked around.

“I guess it’ll have to do for now.” Kowalski frowned. “Don’t go anywhere, Your Honor. I know we’ll talk again. I hope you have some better answers for everyone’s sake. Time is running out for that little girl, you know.

Chief Michaels nodded toward the door, and I got out of there as quickly as I could.

Tim had waited for me, even though his shift was long over. “I’ll take you home.”

“Thanks.” I dropped into the police car with a grateful sigh.

“Is there something I can do?” he asked as he started the car.

“Not that I can think of. But thanks.”

I was supposed to call Kevin. I just couldn’t. The idea of talking to anyone else about everything that had gone on the last few hours was too much. I felt overloaded.

Instead, I spent most of the night on the widow’s walk at the top of the house. I looked out over the lights in Duck and watched the patterns made by the lighthouse beacons as they swept across the sky. I had known them all of my life. Currituck. Hatteras. Bodie. Oak Island. Cape Lookout. Ocracoke.

Toward dawn, a heavy mist rolled in from the sea and covered everything, including me, with fine water droplets.

I wasn’t tired, though. The night had quelled my urge to feel sorry for myself about losing my only living parent. I’d always suspected the relationship with my father would be short-lived. I would probably have to get through the rest of my life without him. I’d cried my tears and made peace with reality.

I needed to focus on Betsy. I wanted her mother to see her again. I knew I’d have given anything to see my mother again.

Betsy needed rescuing as badly as a baby turtle trying to return to the sea. I wouldn’t give up until I found her.
One way or another.

The night had renewed me, filled me with strength and faith again. I could do this. I could find Betsy. Maybe no one else could. I still didn’t know how, or what I needed to do differently, but I was determined to fulfill my promise to her.

I took a long, hot shower until the chill of morning air left my body and my fingers pruned up. Then I got ready for the day.

It was going to be a long one, starting out with the groundbreaking ceremony for the new town hall at noon—Nancy had texted me last night that they had pulled everyone together for that event. It would end with a specially called town meeting at which Mad Dog was going to push to have me removed from office and Chris fired from his position as town manager. I didn’t plan to let either of those things happen.

I dressed accordingly, in several layers. I wore a short, light jacket over my black dress. The pale orange jacket was a perfect foil for my sun-lightened hair and year-round tan.

I looked into my determined (slightly bloodshot) eyes in the mirror and wrote Betsy’s name in the steam left from the shower. I put my feet in my good tennis shoes—too much walking in dirty sand for sandals, even though the groundbreaking was symbolic. The official groundbreaking had to take place when everyone from the town council could be there. The real work would begin later when contracts were awarded.

Gramps was barely awake for a change, stumbling around in the dark kitchen making coffee.

“I’m going down to Duck’s Donuts to get us some breakfast,” I announced, leaving him with a quick kiss on the cheek. “Drink some coffee. I’ll be back in a flash.”

“Don’t forget your umbrella.” He yawned. “It might rain later.”

“I’ve got nothing from my storm knee. Maybe light rain, but not too bad. Are you coming to the groundbreaking at noon?”

“I wouldn’t miss it. Are you going to get those donuts or what?”

I hugged him and skipped out the door. Every bush, every streetlight was covered in tiny droplets of mist. They made a glistening net across town that seemed to glow as the sun started to rise in the troubled sky.

White caps rippled on the Currituck Sound as I walked past the Duck Shoppes. Maybe Gramps was right about the rain. I hoped it would hold off until after the groundbreaking. The area that was set up for the event would turn into sand soup without too much help.

A young man who looked vaguely familiar to me was behind the counter at Duck Donuts. He introduced himself as the owner’s son, Walter Perry Jr. We joked about him coming home from college. He told me that he planned to stay in Duck and start his own construction business. Good news, since many of Duck’s young people left for college and never came back.

He was very sweet too, giving me the thirteenth donut to make a baker’s dozen. I thanked him, asked him to vote for me, then went back outside with breakfast.

A burgundy Lincoln was waiting at the bottom of the steps. It seemed like a bad dream as I watched the two front doors open and Derek Johnson get out of the driver’s side.

Chapter 25

I
thought Guthrie might get out of the passenger
side. I was surprised when the woman I knew as Guthrie’s girlfriend—the sexy blond from my vision—stepped out instead.

She smiled at me. “You’re Mayor Dae O’Donnell,” she said. “I’ve been looking for you.”

Her strong jaw kept her from being truly beautiful, I realized, but she was very striking and dressed expensively—the kind of woman I’d expect to be with a rich smuggler.

“That’s right!” I came down the remaining stairs, pasted on my bright mayor’s smile and shifted the donut bag to free up my hand so I could shake hers.

I wished I could lie about who I was, but I’d already introduced myself to Derek at Old Man Sweeney’s house when he came to get the medallion Chuck had dropped. My only recourse now was to feign ignorance of Derek and the woman’s connection to Guthrie and his illegal activities.

The donut bag dropped to the ground at my feet. I just left it, hoping she wouldn’t think anything of it. It might provide some evidence that I didn’t leave here a happy camper. Gramps was bound to come and look for me when I didn’t come back with the donuts.

“Oops! I guess I won’t be eating that high-carb breakfast. What can I do for you?”

She shook my hand. Immediately, I saw Guthrie with her as they arrived in Duck. I saw her talking to Betsy, though I couldn’t tell where they were. I saw her handling an antique necklace made of amber beads.

“My name is Jackie Vagts. You don’t know me. I’m a visitor to Duck. I was wondering if you could do me a favor.”

I smiled again. “Of course. We
love
our tourists.”

Jackie took the tiny Flobert pistol from her jacket pocket and pointed it at me. “Get in the car.”

Looking at the tiny but lethal pistol made me think the old caveat
buyer beware
should also extend to
seller beware
. This was instant karma.

Derek kind of snickered, but I ignored him and moved to the back door of the Lincoln. When I touched the handle, after Jackie prodded me with the gun, I saw poor, dead Chuck looking at me through the window.

“Where are we going? If you want to rob me, you’re going to be disappointed. I used all my money to buy those donuts. I’m afraid I don’t have any cash with me.”

“You don’t need cash.” She opened the back door for me as I faltered at the sight of dead Chuck. “All you need are the right answers, and our business will be over very quickly.”

I had no choice but to get in. There were no cars, not even a passing bicycle on Duck Road. No one to see what had happened to me. That was the worst. I knew Gramps would be sick with worry.

I tried to convey my fear and uncertainty to Walt Jr. as he looked out at me from the donut shop window. I hoped he’d noticed the gun and that I was definitely in distress. I didn’t dare try to get him to come out—we would both be in the same spot then.

Walt. Jr. smiled and waved at me, then turned around to go back to his counter, no doubt. So much for trying to convey my problem with a look. I wasn’t telepathic like Ann.

I had to step over poor dead Chuck to get into the car. I didn’t look around as Jackie closed the door. I sat rigidly still as Chuck dissipated, or whatever ghosts did. At least he was gone, leaving me with the killers. It would have been nice if he’d offered to help me out, since I was trying to save his daughter.

Jackie sat beside me and told Derek to drive toward Corolla.

“Duck is a very progressive community to have a woman mayor,” she remarked, her blue sapphire earrings sparking in the sunlight. She held the gun steadily on me. “It’s a nice little town.”

Despite my own best interests, I opened my mouth and the words just came out. “Thanks. We usually have a very low crime rate too. Sometimes things happen—like Chuck Sparks’s death and his daughter being kidnapped. You wouldn’t know anything about that, would you?”

She laughed. She was more attractive close up, probably in her midthirties, her long blond hair thick and lustrous, like models have on TV. She was curvy rather than stick thin like Ann, and her clothes were expensive, probably made for her. I envied her pretty, green heels that matched her green dress.

“I’m just a visitor. May I call you Dae?”

“Sure.” I watched as the car picked up speed on the empty highway between Duck and Sanderling. Large sand dunes shielded the houses on either side of the road from traffic. No one would see us passing this way. I wasn’t sure how I could let anyone know where I was. The Outer Banks was only a hundred miles long, but locating a missing person in that space was a near impossible task. I knew that from trying to find Betsy.

“Like I said, I have a few questions for you. Well, one really. Where is Danny Evans?”

“I don’t know.”

“Don’t think I won’t kill you and dump your body out here in the dunes,” she threatened. “I know you’re his daughter. He talks about you all the time.”

“That’s true. I am his daughter. But your guess is as good as mine about where he is.” I told her how he had run out on me last night. “He could be anywhere. Like he was for the last thirty-six years of my life. He didn’t even know he had a daughter until recently.”

Jackie’s blond brows knit together. “That’s not the answer I was looking for, Dae. You see, your father has something that belongs to me. I’m not leaving Duck without it.”

“Have you looked in the back room at the bar where he lived?”

“Yes. We tore apart the bar. It wasn’t there.” She studied me like a cat studies a mouse. “Maybe he left it with you.”

“As far as I know, he didn’t leave anything behind. But tell me what you’re looking for and I’ll tell you if I have it.”

“I’m looking for a big pile of money that he and his friends, Port and Chuck, stole from me. I took care of those other jokers. I meant to take care of Danny too. He got away faster than I expected.”

“I have a lot of things in my shop,” I said. “But not a big pile of money.”

“That’s right.” She glanced at the pistol. “You helped Port get this for me, didn’t you? Dillon was at your shop with him, trying to buy some other antique piece of crap to put in one of his houses somewhere. Maybe we’re headed in the wrong direction. You have the money at your little shop, don’t you?”

If I said no, I’d end up somewhere in the sand where no one would find me for a long time. If I said yes, she’d have to turn around and head back to Duck. Sometimes a lie is the best bet.

“I don’t know about a large pile of cash,” I replied, inventing as I went along. “But my father has a key to my shop. I found him in there not too long ago. There are a thousand places at Missing Pieces to hide money.”

It sounded plausible to me. The Lincoln was quickly eating up the miles. We were passing the Corolla library and the historic village around the Currituck Beach Lighthouse. Soon, we’d reach the end of the highway and a big stretch of water.

If we made it that far, Jackie would surely view the lonely spot as an open invitation to get rid of me.

“I suppose we’ll have to go back and search your shop then.” She sighed and signaled Derek to pull the car over. The tires made that strange crunchy sound as they rolled to a stop on the sand.

“I’ll be happy to show you around.” I looked out the window and saw nothing but sand, water and plant life. I wondered if this was the last I’d see of the ocean rolling in, the sky, my home.

“I appreciate the offer, but I think we can do this without you. Still, you’ve been a big help. Maybe you don’t know where Danny is. I understand he has a way of disappearing. But you’ve probably sent us in the right direction. I think we should let her live, don’t you, Derek?”

Derek grinned and shrugged. “Up to you, sweetie.”

“What about the girl?” I threw out the question like a person shoving extra baggage off a sinking boat—hoping to gain more buoyancy. “You have her, don’t you?”

Jackie frowned, and the Flobert faltered a little from its target on my chest. “Sparks’s daughter? I have her. She’s fine. As soon as all this is over, I’ll let her go. Nothing is going to happen to her.”

Was it my imagination or was Jackie defensive about kidnapping Betsy?

“I’ll trade you a valuable treasure I have at the shop for her freedom,” I said quickly, hoping to play on that momentary weakness. I explained about the silver bell. “It’s worth a lot of money. You can ask Guthrie. He wanted to buy it from me.”

“And you didn’t sell it? A woman with integrity! You’re astounding.” She lifted the pistol back into place. “I’m not really interested in anything Dillon wants, but I’ll take a look at it while I find the money your father owes me. Thanks.”

“And you’ll let Betsy go.”

“She was never in any danger from me. And you’re starting to sound like my mother. Nag. Nag. Nag. Just when I was beginning to like you.”

I didn’t respond. She was going to do what she wanted anyway.

“I’m doing everything to get this money back. Then I’ll be free of Dillon and I can live the way I want to. I never planned to hurt the girl. She’ll be safe. I promise. I just had to finish up my business here before I set her free, you know? I couldn’t have her telling everyone about her father and us.”

“And me?” My heart pounded as I went back to that subject.

“You’ll be safe too—after a while. I need a little time without you running to the police. Tie her up, Derek. Leave her somewhere. I don’t want her showing up at an inconvenient moment.”

As Derek got out of the car, I turned all my attention toward him and away from Jackie, since she didn’t seem to be a threat.

My mistake.

Out of my peripheral vision, I barely caught the movement of her arm before she hit me hard on the side of the head with the pistol. For a few minutes, I saw stars. The pistol might look like a toy, but it certainly worked like the real thing.

Derek dragged me out of the car. I couldn’t coordinate my arms and legs to fight back. My poor scrambled brain couldn’t decide on a game plan. He laughed at me and kept walking through the sand, pulling me behind him.

He tied me with some rope and left me in the shadow of a large sand dune. No one would be able to see me from the road or the beach access where people flew their kites and started their treks looking for the wild horses.

I heard the Lincoln drive off, and my heart sank.

During the height of the tourist season, thousands of people came through this area every day. It was a pilgrimage of sorts after driving down the road through the middle of the island.

But at this time of year, only the occasional fisherman or dedicated horse watcher came through here. Otherwise, the area was deserted. It might be days before anyone found me.

My head hurt—probably a knot where Jackie had hit me. She was as vicious as she was rude. She and Guthrie deserved each other.

But at least I understood why I’d kept seeing her in the visions. She had Betsy. It struck me that Guthrie might not even know what his lady friend was doing. It looked as though the FBI knew what they were talking about after all.

I understood suddenly that the blood I’d seen on Guthrie’s tie in the vision couldn’t have come from Chuck. Jackie had killed him, not Guthrie. They must have offered the treasure to her. Port was probably too afraid to ask Guthrie about the scheme. I’d seen how scared Port was of him. She was trying to increase her stash to get away from Guthrie. When there was no return, she came looking for them and her money. It had cost Chuck and Port their lives.

I hoped my father wouldn’t be next.

I prayed for Betsy not to give up.

And I started worrying about myself.

After a while, I could control my arms and legs again. Not that it mattered. I was trussed up from behind, a sour smelling rag in my mouth to keep me quiet. With my face shoved in the sand, I couldn’t see anything. I couldn’t tell if I’d be affected by high tide, when it came in. If so, the number of days it might take to find me was irrelevant. I’d be dead—drowned—long before.

The rain Gramps had predicted started falling. My clothes were soaked in no time. I tried to use the moisture to my advantage, wiggling my hands in the rope to find a little extra space. The coarse rope chafed my skin, but I kept pushing against it, hoping to get free.