Читать книгу Hazardous Homecoming - Dana Mentink - Страница 14

FIVE

“You can put down the log,” a woman said with a smile. She wore a long jacket, her auburn hair pulled back in a messy ponytail. “I’m not going to hurt you. I’m Heather Bradford.”

He recognized her as the reporter outside the police station after Josephine had her stroke. “You’re just here to burgle the place?”

A small, clean-shaven man with a thatch of dark hair stepped out of the kitchen. He was trim, in good shape, with the muscled body of a long-distance runner. “She didn’t break in. The door was open.”

“I forgot how relaxed the visiting policies are here in Oregon. If the door’s open, just invite yourself in and set a spell.” Cooper tossed the log he was holding into the fireplace. “Mind telling me who you are?”

“Hank Bradford, Heather’s father. I try to accompany her on these investigative missions. Can’t be too careful.” His eyes swept over Cooper. “Never know about folks.”

“Says the man standing in my cabin uninvited.”

“Sorry about that,” Heather said. “It was my idea to come. I knew you were staying with Peter for a while. You refused to talk to me via the phone. Thought I might persuade you in person.”

“How exactly did you know I was staying with Peter?”

“You two don’t talk much, I guess,” Heather said, with a sideways grin. “Peter and I connected a few months back. We’re friends, close friends. He works for my Dad.”

“I own a small café in Pine Cliffs,” Hank offered. Breakfast and lunch. Everything made from scratch and a new menu every day. Heather convinced me to hire Peter.”

“And why would you do that, exactly?” Cooper demanded. “Hire my brother, I mean?”

“I was a manager at the Spruce Lodge here in town years ago when you two were kids. Peter washed dishes there in the summers, so we knew each other.”

Cooper finally remembered.

Hank looked away for a moment before finishing. “Frankly, I always felt kind of sorry for Peter, being accused of that terrible crime. He was just a kid himself. Wrong place at the wrong time.”

“You were here when Alice was abducted?”

“Close. Had a small place couple towns over in the woods. Real quite and no neighbors. I ran the breakfast service for the Lodge. I was part of the search party that looked for Alice.”

“So you believe my brother is innocent?”

“Of course we do,” Heather answered.

Cooper thought he caught a quick flash of emotion in Hank’s eyes. He believed in Peter enough to give him a job, but Hank didn’t want his daughter making any kind of deep connection with Peter. Charity was one thing, watching your daughter seek out an alcoholic formerly accused of kidnapping was another. Frankly, Cooper would probably feel the same way if he were Hank.

“Heather, you’re not here as a friend. You’re looking to dig up a story, but that story brings my brother nothing but pain.”

She put her hands in her pockets. “Maybe things have changed. Maybe now the new developments will bring him vindication.”

“Somehow, I don’t think that’s your reason for digging into this, is it?”

She perched on the arm of the worn sofa. “Well yes, I’d be lying if I said it wouldn’t be a great story to tell and help my career along. It’s been on my back burner for a while but now that it’s almost the twenty-year anniversary...”

Cooper felt sickened. As if it was some sort of event that should be trotted out to sell papers.

Hank put a hand on her shoulder. “It’s my fault. After I moved away, it upset Heather’s mother to hear about it so I didn’t say much. Every so often the police would have a stab at solving it again and one time they came to interview me. She overheard. I told them I’d always thought Peter got the short end of the stick.”

“So who do you believe did it?”

He and Heather exchanged a look.

Heather nodded at her father.

“Hudsons are covering up the truth,” Hank said. “I’ve always thought so.”

Heather nodded. “And I’m going to prove it, now that the locket’s been found.”

Cooper’s mind raced. Peter was innocent, he knew it in his bones. But the Hudsons guilty of hiding the truth? He didn’t believe it, yet there was the inexplicable tension between Pickford and the senior Hudson. And Mick had been questioned by the police about Alice’s disappearance, too. Was it possible?

“You don’t think it might have been Lester Walker?” Peter said.

Hank shrugged. “Dunno, but they checked him out thoroughly. He was buying some parts for his truck in Forestville when it happened, I think I remember. He loved his kid, from what I hear.”

“Where is Peter now?”

“At the café,” Heather said. “He’s worked some really long shifts and volunteered for extra hours. We have a small room in the back with a cot and he crashes there sometimes. He said he would head home after he got some shut-eye.”

Relief washed through him. It was a lot better than the scenarios he’d been cooking up in his mind. He wanted them to depart, to leave him in peace so he could crank up the jazz music, pace the cabin floor all night. He caught Heather’s eye and held it. “Look, I’ll think about it and give you a call, but I’m going to ask you flat out to leave Peter alone about this situation. You know he’s an alcoholic; I don’t want his sobriety threatened.”

Heather stood and raised her chin. “If I’m right, the truth will finally exonerate him. He will be able to look everyone in this town right in the eye and say, ‘You were wrong about me.’ That’s the one thing he’s craved all these years, isn’t it?”

Cooper didn’t answer.

She locked eyes on his. “He’s yearned for the truth to come out, that he’s not a child abductor or worse, and he’s tried to drown that yearning in booze.”

“It’s more complicated than that.”

“Yeah? Well I think the truth will set Peter free. Are you prepared to stand in the way of that?”

He stared into the flat blue of her eyes. Was he? Was protecting his brother also keeping the truth about Alice shrouded in darkness?

“I’d like you to leave now,” he said. “Both of you.”

She nodded. “All right, but I’ll be back.”

He waited until they were gone before he set a match to the dry wood and blew on the tiny flame until the wood caught. The warmth seemed infinitesimal to dispel the cold that gripped him.

Jazz. He needed some jazz. Thinking music. He thumbed through his iPod to find some Charlie Parker tunes that would sooth him into a place where he could make some decisions.

* * *

It was a good two hours later when the door swung open to admit his brother.

“Coop,” Peter said, arms full of paper bags. “I’m home.”

Cooper performed the first action automatically, scanning his brother’s face, checking for the slack look, the bleary eyes, the aroma of alcohol as his brother put down the bags and grabbed him in a bear hug. When there were no indications that Peter had been drinking, Cooper felt the wash of guilt for his lack of trust. Would it always be like that? Distrust, guilt, disappointment? False hope? A real chance of healing? He let it go and returned his brother’s embrace.

“I was expecting you yesterday.”

Peter nodded, the dark blond hair grown long enough to touch his shoulders, deep creases on his tanned face. “Been working extra shifts at the café. Got dishpan hands, but earned some extra cash to get my car some new tires.”

“I got a visit from Heather. She told me you were working at her dad’s café.”

“Yeah. Cool that he gave me a job. Don’t exactly have much to offer in the way of work history on a resume.”

“Peter, we need to talk.”

“Right,” his brother said, heading into the kitchen. “Can I cook while we talk? I’m starving.”

Cooper watched as Peter moved around the kitchen. He was thin, maybe a bit too thin, but his hands were steady and sure as he minced garlic and chopped herbs to sprinkle on a pair of pork chops he’d fished out of the bag. Peter was an excellent cook, no doubt about that. “This place is a wreck, Coop.” He heated olive oil and slid the meat into a pan. “If you’re gonna stay with me, you’ll have to learn to clean up after yourself.”

Cooper was about to fire off a retort when he saw the grin. Typical Peter. The jokester. But the hunted look he’d seen in the past on his brother’s face was no joke. He was relieved there was no sign of it now.

“Something has come up.”

“Heard a few things. Why don’t you tell me what you’re worrying about? You get this crinkle between your eyebrows when you’re stewing and it’s gonna ruin your handsome baby face.”

“It’s coming up again, what happened to Alice all those years ago. I’m not sure it’s a good idea for you to stay here.”

Peter hesitated for a moment, staring into the sizzling pan. “I don’t have anywhere else to go. Need to work. Can’t stay with Mom, she’s barely making it with the money you send her, and I know when I’m there she feels like she has to take care of me.”

A thrill went through him at the unselfish words. They’re just words, Coop. He’s got to walk the walk, not just talk about it. Cooper took a deep breath. “Ruby Hudson found Alice Walker’s locket hanging in a tree.”

Peter still did not look at Cooper. “I heard.”

“You did?”

“Yeah. It means they can find the guy who snatched her. That’s what you’re thinking, right?”

The pop of oil startled Cooper, but Peter didn’t flinch.

“Yes, but it’s going to bring up a lot of bad blood.”

“I’m tougher than I was when I was a teen, Coop.”

Cooper waited. His brother had something to say.

Peter slowly turned to face him. “Are you worried that I’ll be proven innocent?” Another hiss and pop from the hot oil. “Or guilty?”

Cooper gaped. “You’re a piece of work to say that after I’ve stood by you since the moment it happened. I know you’ll be proven innocent.”

“You’re a better brother than I deserve.”

Something flickered across Peter’s face for a split second. In that tiny increment of time, Cooper’s soul quaked. “Peter, I know you didn’t do anything to Alice Walker and you’ve told the police everything about that day.”

Peter looked away, fussing over the dinner.

Peter was innocent.

Wasn’t he?

* * *

Ruby sat bolt upright in bed. No sunlight peeked through a gap in the curtains yet. The thought that had niggled at her since she found the locket burst into her consciousness with crystal clarity. The clock read four-thirty. Her brother and father were still asleep, but she could not stow the idea churning through her mind a moment longer.

Throwing on a pair of jeans and a thick sweater that had been a gift from Molly Pickford on Ruby’s high school graduation day, Ruby tiptoed into the kitchen, filled her thermos with coffee, snatched up her cell phone and tossed them both into a backpack before padding outside. She retrieved her hiking boots from the porch and laced them on. A thrill of fear rippled through her. Lester, if it really was him, was still at large somewhere, but she did not think he would brave the sanctuary property, and definitely not with the police on the lookout for him.

Still, anxiety lingered in her veins, but she forced herself into action anyway. Her whole life had been steeped in fear that colored and shadowed every moment since Alice disappeared, and she was sick of it. Finally, it seemed, there was a chance to shed some light in that darkness, and she would not let the precious moment pass. She’d have to be certain before she told anyone else.

Jacket zipped and cell phone clutched in her hand, she headed out. The sky was unclouded, which meant precisely nothing on the southern coast of Oregon. A lovely morning could morph into a rainy afternoon. Overhead the sounds of rustling birds reminded her that life was burgeoning again as spring meant babies for many species. Her precious bald eagles were tending to their young eaglets, the awkward fuzzy creatures not yet ready to fly. They needed constant attention, which they received from both the mother and father.

An image of her mother rose in her mind, a photo she’d seen of an elegantly dressed, smiling woman holding court at a Hudson family Christmas party in their neat San Francisco Victorian. Ruby had no memories of her mother that weren’t secondhand stories told by her father or Mick. As a young child, she’d thought about those anecdotes, embroidered them in her mind, hoping to embed them so deep they would somehow become her own, but they hadn’t. Ruby had no imprint of her mother, like a bird abandoned just after hatching. If things had been different, and her mother had not succumbed to the cancer, would she have let Ruby go into the woods that day with Alice? Or might they never have come to Oregon at all, staying in San Francisco, amid the forest of eclectic buildings instead of the whispering pines?

She had almost reached the tree when she heard footsteps running through the underbrush, moving fast, coming close. She slipped behind a screen of bushes, heart thudding. Thoughts of Josephine’s knife slicing into her flesh and Lester’s hot breath against her throat ratcheted her pulse even faster.

Stay hidden. You’re safe.

Not in these woods, her mind taunted.

Not anywhere.

Cooper burst into view, his sweatshirt damp with perspiration, moving fast and fluid as he churned along the path. The intensity in his face brought her to her feet, and before she thought it through she’d stepped out of her concealment.

He jerked to a stop, breathing hard, sweat glistening on his face. “Ruby,” he panted. “What are you doing out here at this hour?”

She wished now she’d stayed hidden. “I was, uh, checking on something. Do you always run before sunup?”

He shrugged. “Couldn’t sleep. Insomniac. It’s either run or watch countless hours of NBA basketball reruns.” He paused. “My brother’s home.”

“Oh. I’m glad he made it.” The silence grew awkward between them. She wished he would say goodbye and move on, leave her to her mission. He didn’t, staying there with hands to his narrow waist, regarding her without his usual good-natured smile, which made her wonder.

“I heard from the sheriff that there was no sign of the locket at the Walker’s house.”

“Hmmm. That’s a setback. So what are you checking out then?”

She sighed. No point in holding back. “I just wanted to see if my memory was accurate.” The pine needles under the tree were thick and fragrant as she knelt and sifted her fingers through the detritus.

He took a knee next to her, uncomfortably close, heat emanating from his body. He didn’t say anything, which made her feel a pressing need to fill the silence.

“When I found it, the necklace I mean, some debris from the nest fell down. I didn’t think anything of it at the time. The nest has been vacant for years. As the trees grew up around this one, it obscured the view, you see, and eagles don’t like to have their view obstructed so they found another location. The tree sort of became invisible until the others around it were cleared.”

He let her babble, crouched down, one arm resting on his muscular thigh. When she ran out of breath, he nodded. “So what are we looking for?”

“This,” she said, snatching up the fragment and holding it up to the light.

He squinted. “Looks like part of a fish backbone.”

“It is. Amazing that it’s still intact, but it was tucked between the twigs, which sheltered it from the elements, I think. The rest just sort of disintegrated. There are really only a few vertebrae left.”

“You’re the bird expert and all, I’m just a plant guy, but isn’t it pretty common to find fish remnants in an eagle’s nest? They’re really into seafood, right?”

She smiled. “Sure, but it got me to thinking about how the locket got up into the tree. It couldn’t have been carried by the wind and eagles aren’t like magpies that collect every shiny thing they see, so how did it get in the nest? It’s possible it was tangled in a branch that one of them brought to the nest, I suppose, but I came up with this crazy notion that it got here...”

His eyebrows shot up. “Via the fish.”

“Exactly.” She was pleased that she did not see disbelief in his look. “The eagle carried the fish up here and the necklace was inside the fish’s stomach.”

He laughed. “I believe it. My brother and I once caught a salmon with a watch in its stomach. Fish gobble first and think about it later.”

“Right. When the eagle tore away the flesh, the locket fell out and got caught in the branches.”

“Which means,” he said, standing and offering her a hand, helping her to her feet, “that someone chucked the necklace in the lake to get rid of it, but your eagle friend brought it back here.”

“Ironic, don’t you think?”

“Amazing, is more like it. After twenty years, long after the fish and eagle are gone, Ruby Hudson happens along and finds it. What a break.”

She winced. “I don’t believe in breaks anymore.”

He brushed pine needles off of his knees. “I do.” His smile faltered. “And I wouldn’t say no to one that helped solve Alice’s disappearance.”

“What did Peter have to say about the locket?”

“Not much.” His mouth tightened. “He was exhausted so I didn’t get a chance to tell him about Lester. He’s been working hard.”

Something in his voice was uncertain, wary perhaps?

Cooper straightened. “I’ll go change and fill him in. Then we can head out.”

“Head out?”

“Are you a runner?”

“Not unless something’s on fire.”

He grinned. “Okay. I’ll hold myself back to a brisk walk. Let’s go. I need to get out of these sweaty clothes before we leave.” He charged off.

“Leave for where?” she called, scrambling to catch up with his long-legged strides.

“You’re planning on going to the lake, aren’t you?”

How had he known that was her plan? To go to the lake, by herself.

“There’s no point, really. After twenty years there is nothing left there that will show us what happened to Alice.”

“Well, we just figured out whoever had her locket was probably there twenty years ago, and that’s more than we’ve known until this moment. Gotta go and see if we can figure out anything, right? Reconstruct the scene? Make like detectives?”

“Okay,” she said, weakly, mulling in her mind how her plan had suddenly come to include Cooper. “But it’s really going to be a waste of time. I can go by myself, no need for you to...”

Cooper disappeared around a bend in the path, leaving her talking to herself.