Susannah's Garden (20 page)

“I
don’t believe a word of it,” Carolyn said emphatically as she and Susannah walked out of the Roadside Inn.

“Sharon never even knew Doug.”

“Did he ever say anything about this in his letters?” Susannah asked.

Carolyn hesitated.

“Carolyn?” she asked again.

“He didn’t say anything directly,” she told her. “But I could tell something was up, something he didn’t want to discuss. I saved all his letters and on the anniversary of his death, I sometimes reread them.”

“And?” Susannah pressed. The structure of her entire family was crumbling. Her father might’ve been having an affair and now she’d learned that her brother, whom she’d idolized, might have been dealing drugs.

“There were obscure hints in some of his letters,” Carolyn continued as they neared the car. “Things I didn’t
understand. At the time I figured it had to do with Patricia. He was definitely uneasy—I assumed he felt guilty about breaking up with her. But then…”

“What?”

“There was some kind of…incident. I think maybe it involved Jake.”

“No.” Susannah shook her head. She would’ve known if Jake was doing drugs—or selling them. He couldn’t have been.

“When Jake asked you to run away with him, did he mention finances?”

In an effort to remember, Susannah stood there in the gravel parking lot, trying not to be distracted by the din from the bar. She closed her eyes and the scene in the moonlit garden played back in her mind as if it had happened only hours ago instead of years. Jake had cupped her face with both hands and stared intently into her eyes. He’d asked her to run away with him and promised he’d marry her as soon as they found a justice of the peace in Idaho. Every time she asked a question about where they’d go after that, what they’d do, he’d cut her off with deep, probing kisses, kisses that comforted her and allayed her fears. She’d asked about money. She didn’t have much; her father had made sure of that. Jake had told her not to worry, though. He’d take care of everything.

“He said I shouldn’t worry about money,” she whispered. Her heart ached as she looked at her friend. “What did he do?” she asked. “Where was he getting money?”

“I have my suspicions,” Carolyn said in a low voice.

“But why would
Doug
get involved in anything like that?”

Carolyn’s gaze met hers in the dim light outside the tavern. “I don’t know and I doubt we ever will.”

“Do you think that comment Sharon made about Doug not being the only one meant Jake was part of it, too?” she asked. “Jake
and
Doug?” Susannah broached the subject carefully, afraid of the answer. So many of the memories she’d nurtured were being destroyed. Everything she’d believed was turning out to be something else, and Susannah felt she no longer knew what was real and what wasn’t. It gave her an unexpected insight into the kind of confusion her mother must feel.

“Sharon would say anything to upset you,” Carolyn reminded her. “I don’t know how much credit we should give any of the stuff she said.”

“Right.” Susannah agreed in theory. “Could Troy really be Jake’s son?” she asked tentatively. When they’d started dating, Jake had been wild and undisciplined—the stereotypical bad boy. In contrast, she’d been the good girl, and the attraction between them was powerful. She’d made clear to Jake that if he wanted to be with her, he’d have to change, and he’d tried. He’d loved her, and had tried to prove himself to her and her father. Except that the mighty Judge Leary had refused to talk to Jake, had refused to have anything to do with him.

Everything she’d learned about Jake in these past few weeks had shattered the image she’d held of him and now, it seemed, her brother, too. For the first time since she’d arrived in Colville, she longed for her life in Seattle. Her summers there were peaceful, spent working in her garden and doing small projects around the house. The year before, she’d taken an upholstery class and reupholstered the dining room chairs and then, in a burst of enthusiasm, wallpapered the kitchen. A one-week jaunt to Hawaii with Joe had been an added bonus. By comparison, this summer felt like a nightmare with no escape and no end.

Once inside her car, Susannah gripped the steering wheel tightly. “I have to wonder exactly what the truth is. I have no idea anymore.”

“Surely there’s a way to find out.”

Susannah wasn’t convinced she wanted to dig up information that might best be left buried. She said as much to Carolyn.

But Carolyn shook her head. “You can’t leave it there, especially if Sharon’s implicating Doug in some kind of wrongdoing. And her hints about Jake—don’t you want to know if there’s any truth to them?”

“Oh, my gosh! Shirl Remington mentioned that she was inquiring about Jake in Canada. If he was in trouble, he might’ve fled there.”

“So many young men went north to avoid the draft,” Carolyn said.

“I might never find him, then. Especially if he changed his name.” It was a possibility Susannah hadn’t considered before. “At this point I don’t even care. He obviously isn’t the boy I remember or the man I thought he was.”

Her friend shrugged. “You’ve paid the investigator. You might as well listen to what she has to say.”

Susannah started the engine and turned onto the highway that led back to town. “I guess you’re right,” she said reluctantly.

They rode in silence for a while before Carolyn asked, “Listen, would you mind if I went with you to that private investigator?”

Whatever Carolyn’s reason, Susannah was grateful for the company. “That’d be fine. But…oh, Carolyn, I don’t think I could stand it if Doug did anything illegal. I mean, that’s not what Shirl’s looking for, but if he was involved
with Jake in some stupid scheme, it might all come out. I’m really not sure I want to know.”

“Not even if it’s the truth?”

“I can’t believe any of this is happening. I wish I’d never found that agreement between my father and Allan Presley. That’s what got me into all this.” In any case, it was what had intensified her need to search for Jake.

As Susannah drove the dark country road to Carolyn’s home, she felt an overwhelming sense of discouragement. The road and the house looked much the same as they had when she and Carolyn were kids. And yet that sameness struck her as false.
Nothing
was as it seemed. Past and present seemed to blur, leading her to doubt the truth of her own history.

She turned down the long driveway and parked, and Carolyn climbed out of the car. “What time do you want to leave tomorrow?” she asked, sounding as casual as if they were meeting for some ordinary event.

Susannah bit her lip, calculating the distance. “About eleven-thirty.”

Carolyn nodded. “I’ll be at your house by eleven.”

“Okay. See you then.”

Susannah waited until Carolyn was inside and the lights were on before she reversed her route and headed back into Colville.

As she drove, she considered calling Joe, despite the lateness of the hour. She didn’t blame him for his unhappiness with her. They rarely argued, and she hated this. The problem was, Susannah didn’t know what she could say other than to apologize and she’d already done that.

When she reached the house on Chestnut Avenue, the lights weren’t on, which told her Chrissie wasn’t back from wherever she’d gone with Troy.

Still wondering about calling Joe, she hurried up the front steps and unlocked the door. She left her purse on the small hallway table and flicked on the light. Hoping for a phone message from her husband, she moved toward the kitchen, then paused midstep at a noise coming from the back bedroom.

Perhaps Chrissie had returned, after all. “Chrissie, is that you?”

Nothing.

Susannah froze. “Chrissie?” she tried again, less certain this time.

When there was no reply, Susannah grabbed her purse, raced out the front door and quickly located her cell phone. Scrambling, her fingers hardly able to function, she pressed 9-1-1.

An operator’s voice answered. “9-1-1 emergency line. How might I assist you?”

“There’s an intruder in the house,” she whispered frantically into the cell. She gave them the address. “Hurry, please.”

The operator immediately advised her to get away from the house and to wait for the squad car. By the time Susannah made it halfway down the block, her knees were trembling so badly, she sank to the ground. That noise hadn’t been her imagination. There was someone in the house—but she was sure the intruder had heard her and would disappear before the police showed up.

Only minutes later, a squad car rolled down the street. Susannah jumped up and rushed to the curb as it parked behind hers. When two officers got out, Susannah jogged over to them. She read their name tags and didn’t recognize either one.

“I believe someone’s in the house—or was in the
house.” Her voice shook as she explained what she’d heard.

“We’ll check it out.” Shining a large flashlight, the first cop walked to the backyard and the other went through the front door, which Susannah had left open.

Susannah stayed where she was, grateful not to have to go back in alone. Standing by a streetlight, she couldn’t help suspecting that all her neighbors were staring at her from behind their living room drapes. She resisted the childish urge to wave.

The shorter of the two officers joined her on the sidewalk. “The house is clear.”

“Would you go in and see if anything’s missing?” the other man asked.

She nodded and made her way toward the master bedroom. It was from this end of the hall that she’d heard the noise. The lights were already on, and at first glance nothing seemed to be disturbed. Naturally. Her fear was that she’d end up looking like an idiot. Or like one of those unbalanced people who called the police in a pathetic bid for attention.

The window beside the desk was raised two or three inches. She didn’t remember leaving it open, but that was something she might easily have overlooked. Her father’s desk appeared no different from when she’d left it. Large cardboard boxes, some sealed and ready to be delivered to the storage unit and others that were only half-packed, littered the floor. Nothing seemed out of place there, either.

“A cat might’ve come through the window,” the short officer suggested.

“No,” Susannah said quietly. “Someone’s been here.” She couldn’t say precisely what was out of place or how she knew, but she did. “Someone was in this room and then left when I arrived.”

“You’re certain?”

“Yes…”

“What’s going on?” Chrissie stormed into the bedroom, coming to an abrupt halt when she saw the two officers.

“We had an intruder,” Susannah said. Feeling shaky, she reached for her daughter and hugged her.

“Mom, Mom, are you all right?”

Susannah shook her head and burst into tears.

C
arolyn got to the house shortly after eleven on Tuesday morning for their meeting with the investigator. After the events of Monday night, Susannah felt jittery and paranoid, certain that every creak of the floorboard, the slightest sound, was the intruder returning. None of the other break-ins had affected her like this—maybe because whoever it was had actually been in the house when she came home. Chrissie had phoned Joe, and he was furious with Susannah all over again, as though she’d purposely attracted their thief. On closer inspection, she’d found several things missing. Random papers, a tiny clock, an old fountain pen and—bizarrely—the small journal with the entries her father had made regarding trips and money. The burglar had obviously scooped up whatever lay on the desk.

Joe had insisted on ordering a burglar alarm. Susannah had argued that she wouldn’t be there much longer. A week, ten days at the most. She was eager to get back to
Seattle, to see Joe and talk to him face-to-face. The whole episode with Jake embarrassed her; the strength of her feelings about him now seemed like something from the distant past. She was sorry she’d pursued it at all. In fact, she regretted everything. At this point, all she wanted was to go home to her husband and family, to her safe and familiar life.

“You look dreadful,” Carolyn said, standing at the foot of the steps.

“Thank you very much.” But Susannah knew that wasn’t an exaggeration. She hadn’t slept all night. Dark circles shadowed her eyes. Whenever she’d managed to drift off, some noise would jerk her awake, and all morning she’d walked around in a sleep-deprived fog. Worries about Chrissie weighed on her mind, too. She hadn’t said anything to Joe yet, but their daughter had dropped a bombshell.

“I’ll get my purse.” Susannah returned to the house, double-checked every window and door, then met Carolyn at the curb where her friend had parked.

Carolyn offered to drive, and Susannah was thankful. Because she was exhausted and in no mood to talk, she closed her eyes, unable to stop thinking about Chrissie. As soon as Susannah had calmed down last night and the police had left, Chrissie had announced that she was dropping out of college and moving to Colville.

Susannah was aghast. Her first thought had been to send Chrissie back to Seattle. She’d immediately realized that wouldn’t work. Chrissie had managed to get to Colville on her own before, and she would again. She claimed she was moving here to be close to her grandmother, but Susannah figured that being close to Troy had more to do with it. The situation had to be handled delicately and she wasn’t sure she was the best one to deal with
it, considering the arguments she’d already had with Chrissie about that jerk.

Susannah felt Carolyn’s gaze on her a few times, but neither spoke until they reached the outskirts of Spokane, when Carolyn needed directions to the detective’s address.

Parked outside Shirl Remington’s place, Susannah found that her palms were sweaty. She wasn’t sure what she’d learn or if this was information she really wanted to hear. Enough of her illusions had been destroyed.

The front door was unlocked. Susannah and Carolyn rang the bell once, then, opening the screen door, they stepped inside. Shirl Remington was walking toward them. This time she wore her hair in a high ponytail.

Susannah introduced Carolyn, and the investigator shook her hand.

“Come in, please.” She motioned toward the French doors that led to her office.

While Susannah and Carolyn settled in the two guest chairs, Shirl went to her desk. “Thank you for coming this afternoon,” she said as she pulled the top file from her tray.

Susannah slid closer to the edge of her chair. The oddest sensation came over her—guilt and anxiety, dread and fear all at once.

Shirl opened the file folder, then leaned forward, hands clasped on her desk. All her actions seemed to be in slow motion. “I’ve done an exhaustive search,” she said, meeting Susannah’s eyes. “As far as I can determine, there is no record of Jake Presley beyond his life in Colville. There’s no activity on his social security number. Nor has he filed income tax.”

Carolyn frowned at Susannah.

“There’s also no record of his ever having been incarcerated.”

“Could he have gone out of the country?”

“Possibly Canada. No passport has been issued to Jake Presley. I did learn that he’s got an outstanding drug trafficking charge against him. That’s the reason I searched for him in Canada. But if he did move up there, it wasn’t under the name Jake Presley.”

“Drug trafficking?” she whispered. So Sharon had told the truth about that. Then perhaps everything else she’d said was also true. It made Susannah heartsick.

“What about the statute of limitations?” Carolyn asked when Susannah remained silent. “That crime took place years ago.”

Shirl shook her head, the ponytail swinging as she did. “With federal crimes there is no statute of limitations.”

“Oh.”

“My guess is that he got into some kind of trouble with the law and fled into Canada, where he created a new name and a new life. Like I said earlier, I’ve put out some inquiries with a couple of associates, but it might take a while.”

Susannah felt as if she were in a trance. This also explained why Jake was in and out of Sharon’s life. Every time he entered the United States, he was putting his freedom at risk.

Carolyn looked directly at the P.I. “Susannah and I went to see an old schoolfriend of ours and Jake’s. A woman called Sharon Nance. She claimed two things—that Jake’s visited her in Colville, and that Susannah’s brother, Doug Leary, might’ve been involved with him and…and the drug trafficking.”

Shirl made a note in the file. “Let me find out what I can about all of that.” She straightened and leaned back in the chair. “Did you learn anything else I should know?”

“Susannah interrupted an intruder in the house last night,” Carolyn told her.

Susannah shrugged that off. “I don’t think it’s connected.”

“At this point, everything that happens is suspicious,” the P.I. said, writing that down, too. “Was anything taken?”

“A journal and some other papers. A clock and a pen. Of limited value to anyone other than family. Besides that…”

“What else?”

“Well, I’m staying in my mother’s home,” she explained, “and I had several boxes packed up, waiting to be moved. Without going through each one, it’s almost impossible to tell.” Everything in those boxes was of sentimental value. There was nothing of real monetary worth, but the intruder wouldn’t know that.

“Has there been anything else out of the ordinary?” Shirl asked.

Nothing had been ordinary since the day Susannah had come to Colville. “I’ve had an intruder on at least three other occasions. Again, the only things taken were personal—some old track ribbons of my brother’s, for instance.” She paused. “I told you about finding that signed contract between Jake’s father and mine in Dad’s files. That was what prompted me to hire you.”

“Yes.” Carolyn bobbed her head. “We tried to locate Jake by ourselves but kept running into dead ends.”

“Unfortunately I haven’t had much success myself,” the P.I. said.

“There’s my daughter….” On all fronts, this was the summer from hell. “She’s linked up with…with a young man of questionable character who may be Jake Presley’s son.” Susannah couldn’t prevent a deep sigh. “The reason
I came back was to get my mother settled in assisted living, and Chrissie joined me here.”

Shirl nodded sympathetically. “Can you tell me about Jake and Doug’s friendship?” she asked next.

Not knowing how to answer, Susannah and Carolyn glanced at each other.

“Doug and I were exchanging letters before he was killed,” Carolyn began. “Last night I read through them again in light of what we’ve recently learned.”

Susannah sat up straighter, hoping Carolyn had come upon some fact that would bring clarity to this whole sorry mess.

“Doug never spelled it out for me, but reading between the lines I believe he was trying to help Jake.”

“
Help
him?” Susannah cried. “Help him how?”

“I don’t know,” Carolyn murmured. “What I suspect is that Jake got in over his head. We know now the FBI was on to him.”

“You’d think he might’ve said something to me,” she said. Both her brother and Jake had written in the beginning. Jake had written frequently for a brief time, and then less and less and soon not at all.

“How do you want me to proceed?” Shirl asked. “I can keep looking for Jake Presley. With enough time and money, I can probably find him for you, if that’s what you want. I can also look for a connection between your dead brother and Jake.”

“No, stop now,” Susannah said. “Sharon Nance, our, uh, friend from school, says she has a phone number for Jake.” What Sharon hadn’t told her was that Jake was living under an assumed name, most likely in Canada. Her preoccupation with him had been emotionally as well as financially expensive. At every curve in the road, she was
uncovering information she’d rather not know, remnants of the past that shouldn’t be exhumed.

“I don’t care anymore. Jake doesn’t want to be found, and that’s fine. I’m content to leave it at that.”