Watch for the Dead (Relatively Dead Book 4) (4 page)

“That sounds like fun. What would you like to eat?”

“Scrambled eggs, maybe? I can make toast, if you show me where the bread is.”

“Sounds fair to me.”

“Is Ned going to be up soon?” Ellie asked, looking in the refrigerator for butter.

“Probably. We’ll make enough for all of us, shall we?”

“Is he coming with us to Cape Cod?”

“Not right away, but in a couple of days. He has to work.”

“What does he do?”

Abby wondered if Leslie had told her anything. “Well, he’s a scientist, and he runs a company that analyzes DNA, and does chemical tests on a lot of other things. Do you know what DNA is?”

“Kind of. What’s he looking for?”

Dangerous ground, again. “Sometimes it helps to identify people.”

“You mean dead people?”

“Yes. If they’ve been dead for a long time, or if someone killed them and took their wallet and stuff, it can help find out who that person is.” Now was not the time to talk to Ellie about using DNA evidence to solve things like rape cases. Abby hoped Ellie could stay innocent just a while longer—although almost any television show that wasn’t a cartoon made references to the more appalling crimes. Not quite the world Abby had grown up in, or maybe when she was young she’d just ignored the things she didn’t want to know about. Or changed the channel. “Tell me, what other things do you like to do? Most of this summer, when we’ve been together we’ve done something, or gone somewhere. But aren’t there times when you just want to sit?”

“I read. Sometimes Mommy thinks I spend too much time inside, but then she thinks about when I used to go visit that cemetery near our house, and she doesn’t say anything. Are there cemeteries on Cape Cod?”

“Of course, love. People die everywhere.”

“Do you know anybody there?” Ellie asked.

Abby was both amused and dismayed. She knew exactly what Ellie meant: did Abby know any dead relatives who had died on Cape Cod? But what kind of eight-year-old asked questions like that? “Not that I know of, but I haven’t been looking long. Do you really want to visit graveyards on your vacation?”

Ellie shrugged. “I like them.”

Well,
Abby thought wryly,
at least they won’t be crowded with tourists.

She heard a knocking at the front door, followed quickly by the sound of Ned coming down the stairs. Shortly after that he led Leslie into the kitchen.

“Hi, baby,” Leslie said, going straight to her daughter.

“Hi, Mom,” Ellie said. “I’m helping Abby make breakfast.”

“Good, good. I brought you some clothes.”

“How’s Daddy?” Ellie asked.

“He’s okay. Kind of weak and tired. He’s still in the hospital, but he should be coming home today or tomorrow. Don’t worry about him, okay? You just have fun with Abby and Ned, and I’ll see you in a couple of days. And I’ll call you and talk to you. Come on, give me a hug.”

Ellie got out of her chair and hugged her mother, but it was Leslie who hung on longer.

Finally, when she let go, Leslie said, “You have your phone, right? You can call me if you need me.”

“Yes, Mom, I have my phone. You take care of Daddy.”

“I’ll do that.” Leslie straightened up and turned to Abby and Ned. “Thanks again. I’ll let you know when I know anything more. Have a good time, you all.”

“I’ll see you out,” Ned told her, and followed her toward the front of the house.

“Mommy’s sad,” Ellie said, sounding more like the child she was than usual.

She was right. “She is, sweetie,” Abby agreed. “She’s worried, too. But the best thing we can do for her is to try to enjoy what’s left of your vacation.”

“Okay. Can I scramble the eggs?”

Not for the first time, Abby marveled at the resiliency of youth. “Of course you can.”

It was only later that Abby realized that neither she nor Ned had mentioned the Cape Cod trip to Leslie.

Chapter 4

After a quick breakfast, Ned disappeared to make a few phone calls, and returned looking cheerful. “Everything is set. The agency knows you’re coming today—just give them a call when you get there and they’ll meet you. Here are all the relevant numbers”—Ned handed Abby a printed page—“including Daniel’s, in case something really goes wrong, like the plumbing backs up. But usually the agency can handle things.”

Abby smiled as she took the list. “Ned, you make it sound like we’re going to Outer Mongolia. This place is, what, two hours away? And there will be plenty of people around. I’m sure we can manage.”

He looked contrite. “Of course you can. Ignore me—I’m just working out my guilt at not being able to go with you by obsessing with details.”

“Then I’ll leave you to it.” Abby finished cleaning up the breakfast dishes and went to call up the stairs, “Ellie? Are you about ready?”

“Be right down,” she heard.

Abby looked at Ned. “So, today’s, what, Tuesday? When do you think you can get away?”

“Friday if I’m lucky, but the traffic would be awful. I could be there early Saturday morning.”

“If that’s the best you can do.” Abby sighed melodramatically. “I’ll miss you, but we’ll all survive.”

“Oh, one more thing—the national weather service is talking about a hurricane coming up the coast, so keep an eye on it.”

“I’m taking my laptop along, and my cell phone. No TV, remember? And won’t the agency take care of battening down the hatches or whatever needs doing?”

“In theory, but they might be kind of busy. We can call or text each other, if things look iffy. You can come back early, if it looks like it’s going to be bad. Anyway, it won’t hit for a couple of days, if at all. Just keep in mind that the bridges close down if the wind hits seventy-five miles per hour.”

That sounded like a sensible idea. Abby was pretty sure she’d rather be on the ground than on a high bridge over the canal in that kind of wind. “Let’s just play it by ear. And I promise I’ll pay attention to the weather reports.”

Ellie came into the kitchen with a bulging backpack, and Abby laughed. “What on earth do you have in there?”

“Books,” Ellie said. “And a notebook and a flashlight. And my camera.”

“Flashlight—good thinking. Ned, do we have some extras?” Abby asked.

“Sure do, with batteries. I’ll get them and put them in your car.”

“Thank you, love. So, Ellie, are you ready to go?”

“Yes. Do you have GPS in the car, or do you want me to use the phone?”

Would Ellie’s generation even know how to read a paper map?
Abby wondered. “No to the GPS, because my car’s not real new, but I do have a map. Whichever works for you. Where we’re going is less than two hours away, so we’ve got plenty of time, even if we get lost.”

“Are you renting a house?” Ellie asked.

“No, just borrowing one. I’ve never seen it. You
have
seen the ocean, right, Ellie?”

“Yeah, sure. Sometimes Mommy and Daddy and Petey and me, we go to the beach for a day, but we’ve never stayed over.”

“Well, this should be fun. Let’s go!”

Abby led the way to the front door. Ned had just finished stowing their stuff in her car, not that there was much—she had a large tote, with very casual clothes, her only bathing suit (several years old), a sweatshirt she’d thrown in at the last minute, plus some books and her laptop with its charger cord. Not exactly roughing it, since they were going to a comfortable furnished house with a view, which someone else had cleaned and stocked. Abby tried to remember the last time she had taken a real vacation—one of those where your only goal was to relax and have fun—and came up blank. How sad was that? Now she’d been presented with the perfect opportunity, thanks to George’s unexpected illness.

And then she immediately felt guilty. She liked George, and he was a good father to his kids. He didn’t deserve to have a serious medical problem. It was clear that Leslie was worried, although she wasn’t about to say as much, especially not in front of Ellie. But the very fact that she had entrusted Ellie to Abby’s care said volumes. Leslie had been cautious from the beginning about leaving Ellie with Abby, and Abby could understand why: she and Ellie shared something rare that Leslie could never be part of. It wasn’t her fault, and if it hadn’t been for a series of coincidences, Abby might never have met Leslie, much less her daughter, and discovered that Ellie and she were linked, in more than one way. But now they all knew, and Abby continued to believe that Ellie would be better off with someone like herself in her life to shepherd Ellie through dealing with this peculiar “seeing” ability. Though Abby was still trying to explore it herself. It was complicated, even without adding Ned to the mix. And she didn’t know anybody else to ask—she hadn’t exactly been broadcasting for people with this thing.

Abby kissed Ned good-bye, then added, “I’ll call you when we get there. Ellie? In you go!” They both climbed into the car, and Abby checked how much gas she had—it should be enough. Now for the open road. “Ellie, what do we do first?”

“Go out the driveway?” Ellie looked slyly at Abby, and Abby laughed.

“Good—can’t forget that!”

It was, by anybody’s standard, a beautiful New England day. There had been some hot spells in July, but as usual, August brought cooler nights. Of course, August also brought storms, and that risk could last as late as November. That had always been true, but it seemed that since people had started talking about global warming the storms had gotten worse—bigger and longer lasting. And more destructive. Still, Cape Cod had been standing up to ocean storms for centuries now and most of its old houses had survived. The old carpenters had built them to last.

“What do you know about Cape Cod, Ellie?” Abby asked once they were pointed in the right direction.

“It looks like a bent arm,” Ellie said.

“It does. It’s easy to find on maps, isn’t it? Or aerial photographs.”

“You have to take a bridge to get there now, right?”

“Yes, there are two, not counting the railroad bridge. There have been bridges there for a long time, but the ones that are there now date from the 1930s. We’re taking the southern one, called the Bourne Bridge.”

“Are they safe?” Ellie asked nervously. “Because they’re kind of old.”

“Sure they’re safe, or the state wouldn’t let people use them.” Although they might have a riot on their hands if they shut down one or the other bridge. “You know what the bridge goes over?”

“Water?” Abby had to check if Ellie was joking; it appeared she was.

“Yes, of course. It’s the Cape Cod Canal, which was built by people, although there was always some kind of waterway there. Did you know that the water flowing through the canal changes direction when the tide changes?”

“No, Abby, I did not know that,” Ellie said patiently. “Are we going to talk about stuff like this for days? You sound like my teachers.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment. But, no, we’re going to have fun. What do you want to do?”

“You asked me that before, and I still don’t know what there is to do. I like to collect shells on beaches. I don’t much like to swim in the ocean because it keeps moving, and there are things under the water.”

She had a point, Abby had to admit. Was it worth trying to change her opinion? Probably not, in the short time they had. “Well, out past the elbow is the National Seashore, which has some beautiful beaches, and I’m sure we can find shells there. There’s at least one lighthouse, at Chatham, I think. And there’s a glassblowing place in Sandwich that gives tours. And at the end—the hand, kind of—there’s Provincetown. There’s a place there that makes saltwater taffy, and you can watch them do it.” God, she was sounding like a chirpy tour guide.
Chill, Abby!

Was she worried about spending so much time alone with Ellie? She wasn’t sure. She liked Ellie, and would like her even without this ability that linked them. But she wasn’t sure what effect being together for so long would have on that link. Would it get stronger? Would that be good or bad? And why was she even thinking about it? To the best of her knowledge neither she nor Ned had any relatives on Cape Cod, living or dead, so they weren’t likely to run into any residual visitors.

“And I think there’s a seaweed museum too,” Abby added as an afterthought.

Ellie looked at her incredulously, then burst out laughing. “You made that up!”

“I did not. I’ve been past it, but I’ve never been in it. We could check it out.”

They made silly talk for the next hour or so, as Abby navigated the highways. Finally they came to the Bourne Bridge. “The bridge,” Abby said.

“Yup,” Ellie replied. After a few more seconds she said, “The canal.”

“Yup,” Abby said. “That about covers it. Now we look for Route 28, which used to be called the Cranberry Highway.”

One roundabout, and then another, and Route 28 became narrower until it became a two-lane local road. “You have the instructions that Ned gave us?” Abby asked Ellie.

“Right here.” Ellie held up the now-crumpled page. “You’re supposed to go like three miles after the road narrows and look for a road on the right called Chap—, Chappa—something like that. And then you turn right pretty quick onto something called Nasha-whatsis, then take the first road on the left, which is Swift, and then right, and we’ll be there!” Ellie finished triumphantly.

Close enough,
Abby thought. Besides, there weren’t that many roads along here. She knew the town of Falmouth was still a few miles ahead, but here it was less commercial, and prettier. She found Chappa-whosis with no problem, catching a glimpse of the water straight ahead as she turned, and as Ellie had said, the next right was Nasha-whatsis. If she remembered the map correctly, they were on a little bulge of land that was surrounded on two sides by a harbor. A couple of the houses were large, opulent Victorians, albeit covered with weathered shingles, but the majority were smaller—summer homes, not primary homes. She hadn’t given it any thought, but she realized that Ned could afford a place here, or maybe anywhere else, if that’s what he—they wanted. Did they?

“Left, Abby,” Ellie reminded her, “then right.”