Blood Ties (3 page)

"It will be fine. You should see the conditions on
some of the sites I've worked at in the Greek Islands."
Abbie slipped her backpack off her shoulder. "So
Mom and Bailey found a body yesterday?"

"That they did. Best let her tell you about it. Crabs
had been at the boy."

Abbie shuddered. "I think I'm glad I stayed in Oklahoma a few days longer."

"Yeah, it was a sight folks are better off not seeing.
For certain, something Bailey didn't need to see."
Emma lowered her voice. "I think she's in the family
way. She's not said anything to Daniel-he's her intended.... Or to me, for that matter. But Bailey's
fillip' out, and she's got that shine about her. I'd be
willing to lay hard money that Daniel will be bouncing
a baby on his knee by the first of next year."

"I hope it works out for them. Mom and Bailey have
been friends for years. She's always been good to me."

"Good to everybody. Good blood in her. She's got
the Tawes eyes, you know. Just like her Uncle Will.
Daniel's lucky to have her."

Abbie carried her backpack up the stairs, and
Emma continued on into the parlor. She'd already set the table in the dining room, so all she had to do was
bring the food out of the kitchen. All the windows
were open and there was a nice breeze off the bay,
making the downstairs cool despite the July heat. Outside on the porch, Emma heard Buck ask about the
exact time the two women had discovered Sean's body.
Emma moved a little closer to the window, not really
eavesdropping, but curious. Karen's reply was too low
to catch.

"Is there time for me to take a shower?" Abbie
called down.

"Sure," Emma answered. That would give her a few
minutes to get the food on the table. She hurried into
the kitchen to mix up the batch of iced tea she'd
started earlier.

Everything she'd put together for Abbie's first dinner on the island looked good. There was a freshbaked blueberry pie for dessert, and she had her first
ripe garden tomato to add to the salad. But something
kept gnawing at the corners of her mind like an eel
chewing a chicken neck.

It had to be that Indian burial ground where Bailey
and Karen had found the drowned boy. Old-time people stayed clear of that stretch of shoreline, and Emma
saw no reason to argue with common sense. Maybe
the Gilbert kid had just had bad luck, but maybe it was
something else.

Once, hunting, she'd followed a wounded deer out
there. She'd tramped the marsh until twilight before
she'd finally found the animal and finished it off. That
swamp was a queer place with strange sounds and
something Emma couldn't put words to ... something
that raised the hairs on the nape of her neck just to
think about it.

She liked Karen Knight and her girl Abbie. Emma enjoyed hearing tales about far-off places and the pyramids and such. She damned certain wanted Karen to
find reason to keep the marina people off Tawes. But
she didn't favor the idea of those two poking around
on that cursed section of the island. The way Emma
saw it, no good could come out of it, and a lot of bad.

Buck pushed his chair back from Emma's diningroom table. "If you ladies will excuse me, duty calls."

"Don't forget the meeting at the church at seven.
Matthew said he'd keep it short, just fill folks in on
what's happening and introduce them to Karen and
Abbie."

"I'd like to join you, but I can't. As police chief, it
wouldn't be right for me to take sides."

Emma shrugged. "I told Matthew that's what you'd
say. Certain you won't have another piece of pie?"

"Thanks, but no. That third helping of potato salad
and the first slice of blueberry pie will probably hold
me until breakfast. Tell Aunt Birdy she's outdone herself." He glanced at Abbie, hoping he'd read the signals right. "I'd be glad to show you some of Tawes, Ms.
Night Horse. If you're interested?"

Almond-shaped dark eyes appraised him. Taut silence stretched between them. He waited.

"Business, Chief Davis? Or pleasure?"

"Strictly pleasure."

Her lips curved into a smile. "About eight?"

"Eight it is. And, Ms. Night Horse? Wear something
you can ride in."

He headed for the back door before Emma or
Karen could notice the sudden fullness that had
swelled the front of his jeans. Abbie had an edge. She
not only intrigued him, she sizzled like a steak on a
hot grill. And a man didn't live on potato salad and
blueberry pie alone.

By the time he reached the back porch, he'd startled humming to himself, and when he'd covered the
three blocks to the old seed store that served as the
town's police station, it was hard to push Abbie Night
Horse out of his mind long enough to finish the paperwork on the Gilbert boy's drowning.

The hands on the wall clock pointed to 6:45 when
Buck switched off the light and locked the office door.
This was probably one of the few locked doors on the
island, but if the real estate people bought the property they'd taken an option on and built the marina
project, Tawes would have to change.

He hoped Forest McCready could find good reason
to stop the developers at Onicox Realty in their tracks.
After years on the Delaware State Police, Buck had
looked forward to coming home, to having things the
way he remembered them. He wanted Tawes to remain isolated from the mainland madness, and he'd
do anything in his power to keep it unspoiled.

His sister-in-law was finishing up the supper dishes
when he entered his brother's cottage on the far side of
town. Faith raised a soapy hand as he opened the screen
door. "Wondering when you were going to get home."

"Paperwork to finish on that drowning. You or Nate
going to the meeting tonight?"

"Not a chance," Faith said. "Matthew Catlin and Forest McCready would probably burn me at the stake.
I'm all for the marina. It's bound to bring jobs." She
returned to scrubbing her frying pan.

"How about Nate?"

"It's a free country. You ask him."

In the living room, Buck's brother was lounging in
his easy chair, watching the news out of Salisbury and
drinking a Bud. "You look comfortable," Buck said.
"Going to tonight's meeting?"

"Nope." Nate raised his beer can. "A cold one left in
the fridge." Five-year-old Sammy was busy painting her
father's toenails hot pink, while Johnny, three, drove a
racecar through the tunnel formed by Nate's legs. The
house was relatively quiet, which meant Baby Joel must
be sleeping.

"No, thanks. Just want to grab a quick shower; then
I'm going to show the archaeologist's daughter some
of the finer points of Tawes."

"I'll bet you will. If you're hungry, Faith made clam
chowder and her special cornbread."

"Are you being a smart-ass about my cooking
again?" she called from the kitchen.

"No, honey." Nate rolled his eyes. `Just, next time,
no need to add so much salt."

Buck paused in the archway that led to the narrow
hallway and the windowless bedroom he'd been sharing with Sammy and Johnny. "I'm moving into Emma's
place."

"Can't get Daniel's cabin yet?" Faith dried her
hands on a kitchen towel. She'd pinned her blond
ponytail up into a knot, and pieces were falling down.
"You know there's no need to move out. You're always
welcome here."

He grinned. "I appreciate your putting up with me,
but it's time I letJohnny have his bottom bunk back."

"I'm going to get the attic wired for a third bedroom next month," Nate said. "Honest to God. We can
make out until then."

"Right," Faith said. "Three years you've been promising to do it."

"I came home to Tawes to stay," Buck said. "I can afford my own place. I'll talk to Daniel. Bailey's still
dodging a wedding date, but maybe he can convince
her to let him move in with her."

"Too bad about Sherwood's farmhouse. Right on the water." Nate drained the last drops of his beer.
"Brick house. And the barn's solid. You could have
fixed that place up nice."

"Yeah. I would have liked to buy the house and ten
acres, but it's out of my price range now. If the realtors
get it, they'll bulldoze everything and throw up condos that start at a half-mil apiece."

"Shame on you two," Faith put in. "Neither of you
have said a word about that drowned boy. I went to
high school with his older sister. Funny, isn't it? Sheila
always bragged about Sean's swimming."

"Anybody can drown." Nate handed the empty can
to Sammy. "Throw this in the trash for Daddy, will you,
princess?" He settled back in the chair. "Maybe the kid
was drunk or high."

Buck shook his head. "No sign of it. No reason to
think it was anything but a freak accident. Of course,
the coroner's report hasn't come in. That will be
weeks-if we're lucky."

"If you want a shower, you'd best wait a little," Faith
said. "Nate had one before supper. I'm not sure how
much hot water is-"

"No problem," Buck said.

"Oh, yeah," Nate chimed in. "With the hot date he's
got lined up, he needs a cold shower to keep hisself
under control until the time is right."

The tree-shaded brick church was three-quarters full
when Abbie and her mother followed Emma through
a side entrance to a front pew designated reserved by a
line of hymnals. Emma gathered the books and
stacked them at the end of the bench. "This is for us.
You two go up and take a look at Matthew's collection.
That's just some of the Indian stuff from the site." She
waved toward a long table with an array of stone and
ceramic artifacts.

A goodly crowd surrounded the table but people
stepped back politely to allow the newcomers a clear
view. Abbie scanned the display, noting a number of
fine quartz and chert points, a hematite celt, two sandstone axes, incised ceramics, an intact drill that might
be made of flint, an obsidian pipe, and a five-inch section of a soapstone bowl. North America wasn't her
area of expertise, but she had followed her mother
from site to site since she was five, and this was Native
American Archaeology 101.

It was evident that the pieces represented a time pe riod ranging from prehistoric up to European contact. If the items had been recovered from the area
they'd come to investigate, there was no doubt in Abbie's mind that the spot had been occupied for thousands of years. Not that that made a solid case for
preventing development of private property, but it did
prove an urgent need for further investigation.

A tall, angular man with wire-framed glasses and a
gray mustache strode purposefully to the table.
"Thank you all for coming. If you'll just be seated, we
can start." Since he spoke with authority and was one
of the few males in the church wearing a tie, Abbie assumed this must be the minister, Matthew Catlin, the
amateur archaeologist who'd been instrumental in
bringing them there. She tapped her mother's shoulder and they took their seats beside Emma.

"Is there anything new, Matthew?" called out an
older woman sitting directly behind Emma. Abbie
glanced back. She was thin, with an unusually smooth
complexion and few wrinkles, despite her white hair.

"I don't see the Squire." A man across the aisle
stood and peered around the church. "You told us that
Forest McCready would be here."

"Shhh." His female companion-Abbie guessed it
was his wife-tugged at his shirt. "For the love of God,
Phillip!" she scolded. "How can Matthew tell us anything, with you runnin' your mouth?"

The accents that filled the church were as distinctive
as Emma's, but more Old English than Old South to
Abbie's ear. The words and phrases were quaint and
old-fashioned, but she had no trouble understanding
them. The island fascinated her, and not just because
of the potential archaeological site.

"Will Tawes saw surveyors out there yesterday," reported the white-haired matron, standing and raising
her voice. "Way I hear, the sale's not gone through yet. So the mainlanders are trespassing. What good is the
law if they can run roughshod over our land when they
please?"

"Money talks!" came from the back of the church. "I
told ye all this truck would come to nuthin'."

Matthew raised his hands and motioned his flock to
calm. "Friends, neighbors ... illustrious guests ..."

"There's Bailey," Abbie's mother whispered. "Over
there. That's her uncle Will with her. I don't see her fiance, Daniel. He's the minister's brother."

"Ah-hem." Matthew Catlin cleared his throat pointedly. A hush fell over the church. "Thank you. Thank
you. First of all, I'd like to introduce our archaeologist, Dr. Karen Knight, and her daughter Abigail.
Please stand." He offered a professional smile. "Everyone! Give them a big Tawes welcome!"

"Where's Forest?" someone asked. "Why isn't he
here?"

"Forest McCready," Emma whispered. "The lawyer."

"As most of you know," Matthew continued, "our purpose here is the preservation of a prehistoric Indian-"

"Speak for yourself," a man interjected. "Some of us
are just nosy."