Chapter 13 #2
"Fourteen. She died of cancer. And then it was just me and my dad.
But we had never been close, and without her loving presence, our house felt incredibly cold.
My father had also been focused on work, but without her to come home to, he would stay later and later at the office.
I don't think he wanted to be in that house any more than I did. "
"Who took care of you?"
"I took care of myself. We had a housekeeper who would clean and cook meals we could heat up later, but that was it."
"That sounds lonely."
"It was. I tried everything to get his attention.
Good grades, following his rules, going to the college he wanted, studying accounting and economics, even though I hated those subjects, but nothing really mattered.
I finally decided to stop trying to be who he wanted me to be.
I moved to New York and got into media, although my fact-checking job wasn't all that exciting, but it felt like the first step toward becoming a journalist, which is what I really want to do. "
"And the podcast? How did that start?"
"The three of us got laid off from the same company a few months ago, and the podcast was just something fun to do while we looked for other jobs.
Tessa, Morgan, and I are true crime fans.
We'd drink wine and talk about crime, hence the name Mysteries Uncorked.
To our surprise, we started to garner a following, and that's when we decided to dive deeper into Natalie's disappearance. You know the rest."
He didn't actually know all the rest, but he knew what mattered, and that was enough for now.
"I hope you won't regret the decision to dig deeper," he said.
"I hope not, too. But this is the first time in my life I feel like I'm actually doing something that might matter, might make a difference in someone's life. I have to keep going."
"So do I." He glanced at me and smiled as we shared a moment of truly being on the same page.
Then the GPS announced we were approaching Cork Harbor, breaking the moment.
I sat up straighter, looking out at the larger town emerging ahead of us.
Cork Harbor was definitely bigger than Stonecross—more boats in the harbor, more restaurants lining the waterfront, more tourists walking the docks.
The late afternoon sun glinted off the water, and I could see why people came here.
It had that picture-perfect coastal town charm.
Tyler pulled into a parking lot near the marina. As we slowed, I caught sight of two men standing near a white pickup truck at the far end of the lot. One of them looked familiar—tall, lean build, dark hair.
"Is that Cole Holloway?" I asked, peering through the windshield.
Tyler followed my gaze. "Could be. Hard to tell from here."
The two men separated, the one who might have been Cole getting into the truck and driving off before I could get a better look.
"Why would he be here?" I wondered aloud.
"He works with his uncle, Jeff Holloway. Maybe they had a charter up here."
"That makes sense," I said. But something about seeing Cole here felt wrong. Or maybe I was just suspicious of everyone now.
We parked and got out of the car, walking through the marina that was busy with late afternoon activity—boats coming in from day trips and tourists browsing the waterfront shops. The smell of fried seafood permeated the air. It would have been more pleasant under different circumstances.
"There, Carmichael Charters," Tyler said, pointing to a small office on the dock.
We walked over, but the office was closed, a Be Back Soon sign hanging in the window.
"Damn it," Tyler muttered. "This happened to me the last time I came here."
"Excuse me," I said to an older man coiling rope on a nearby boat. "Do you know where we can find Nathan Carmichael?"
The man straightened, squinting at us. "Nathan? His boat's over there." He pointed down the dock. "The Wanderer. Third one on the left."
"Thank you."
We made our way down the dock, our footsteps echoing on the weathered wood. The Wanderer was a thirty-foot boat, white with blue trim, showing signs of wear but well maintained.
"Nathan?" Tyler called out as we boarded the boat. "Hello?"
A man in his late thirties came up the stairs, his long dark hair pulled back in a small ponytail. He wore jeans and a Red Sox T-shirt. "Can I help you?"
"Nathan Carmichael?" Tyler asked.
"That's me." His eyes were wary. "Do I know you?"
"I'm Tyler. This is Cassidy. We need to talk to you about Jessica Trent."
Nathan's expression immediately closed off. "I already talked to the police about that. Months ago. There's nothing more to say."
"Actually, there is," I said, stepping forward. "You took my friend Tessa out on your boat yesterday. Along with Finn Kelly. You showed her where you found Jessica's boat."
"So?" Nathan crossed his arms, giving me a challenging look. "Is there a law against that?”
"No," I said. "But there might be a law against withholding evidence. Like a diamond ring you found on that boat and never turned over to the police."
Nathan's face went pale, then flushed red. "I don't know what you're talking about."
"Tessa remembers," I said, which wasn't entirely true, but Nathan didn't need to know that.
"She told us all about it. And she's at the hospital right now, being treated for injuries she sustained after spending the day with you.
The hospital ran a tox screen. If you put something in her drink to make her forget what you told her, that's going to come out. "
Nathan's face paled. "Finn told me she was in the hospital, but I didn't have anything to do with that. She fell down some stairs, right?"
"Because she was out of it," I said. "The doctor believes she had drugs in her system."
"Then she must have taken something after she got off the boat."
"The doctor will figure it out," Tyler interrupted. "They'll know exactly what time she ingested the drug."
I wasn't sure that was true, but Nathan looked trapped, and, finally, his shoulders sagged.
"Look, I just gave her a little something to help her relax.
She was getting all worked up, asking too many questions, saying she was going to put me on her podcast. I slipped a little something into her drink just to mellow her out. "
"You drugged her?" I felt sick at the thought.
"It was just a sleeping pill. I didn't mean for her to get hurt!" Nathan insisted. "I just needed her to forget about the ring. If the police find out I kept it, I could go to jail. And it's not like anyone needs it—Jessica's gone, presumed dead."
"Is she?" Tyler asked. "Is she really dead, Nathan? Or is there something else the police don't know?"
Nathan looked at him, something shifting in his expression. "I told them everything that mattered."
"Everything that mattered to the police. What about Jessica's family? Her friends? She had a life. People who cared about her. Don't you think they deserve to know the truth?"
"We don't care about the ring," Tyler added. "We just want to find Jessica."
Nathan was quiet for a long moment, clearly wrestling with what I hoped was his conscience. "If I tell you what I know, you keep quiet about the ring. Deal?"
Tyler and I exchanged glances. "Deal," Tyler said.
I simply nodded, not wanting to mention that Finn had already talked to Sheriff Holloway about the ring. Nathan could find that out later.
"The day I found Jessica's boat, it was drifting near that cove, just like I told your friend," Nathan said.
"But before I called it in, I went ashore.
I wanted to see if maybe she'd made it to land, you know?
And that's when I saw the ring in the sand.
It was at least ten feet from the water's edge. "
My pulse quickened. "You're saying that Jessica made it from the boat to the shore?"
"Could have happened that way. Or the ring just washed ashore when she drowned."
"You should have told the police this," Tyler put in, anger in his voice. "What the hell were you thinking?"
"I was thinking that selling that ring would keep me and my business going for another year," Nathan said, no remorse in his voice. "Plus, I still didn't know what happened to her, and that ring wasn't going to tell the story. Like I said, it could have been washed ashore."
"It's kind of amazing you could find a ring in the sand of a deserted beach," Tyler said, his voice harsh, his gaze pointed.
"I guess I got lucky," Nathan returned.
I could see that Tyler wasn't completely convinced that anything Nathan had told us was true, but I wondered if it was, and if Jessica had gotten off that boat. If she had, where had she gone, and why had she wanted everyone to think she was dead?
"That's all I have to say," Nathan continued.
"Personally, I think Jessica got off that boat and had someone pick her up on the road above that beach.
She's out there somewhere, living a new life.
Maybe it's time to stop looking for her.
It doesn't seem like she wants to be found.
" Nathan looked at Tyler, then me. "We have a deal, right?
You don't say anything about the ring or the drugs? "
"For now," Tyler said. "But if we find out you're lying to us, all bets are off."
"I'm not lying." Nathan's voice was firm. "But even if I was, you can't prove anything. You haven't seen the ring. You can't prove I drugged Tessa. Finn was on the boat, too. He could have done it. You have nothing. Now, get off my boat."
Tyler hesitated and then turned. I followed him off the boat, and we didn't speak until we were back in the car.
"Should we go to the police?" I asked, breaking the silence between us as we fastened our seat belts. "Finn already talked to Sheriff Holloway, but maybe we could talk to someone in this town."
"And tell them what?" Tyler asked. "Nathan is right. We have no proof of anything. And whatever we say, he'll deny."
"I don't care about the ring, but how can I let him get away with drugging Tessa? He's the reason she's in the hospital."
"I understand how you feel. You can go to the police, but I don't think it will get you the result you want."
"I have to try. I can't let Nathan get away with this. He could be drugging other women, for all we know.”
"Maybe you should talk to Tessa about it first, see if she has regained any of her memory, because I think there's a good chance Finn will renege on anything he told you to protect his friend.
And then it will just be me and you, the outsiders, against Finn and Nathan, who are definitely on the inside. How do you think that will go?"
"I think it will get shut down like everything else," I admitted. "I'll talk to Tessa, and maybe I'll have more proof when the toxicology report comes back."
"I hope there is evidence because without it…"
"It's just our word against his."
"Exactly."
"What do you think of Nathan's suggestion that Jessica faked her death? It makes sense. You said she was on the run, scared that she was going to be set up, just like your brother. Maybe that's exactly what she did."
His lips tightened. "It's a possibility."
It suddenly occurred to me that Tyler could actually be the person Jessica was running from. Maybe she thought he would throw her to the wolves to protect his brother.
Which raised the question—should I be trying to help him find her?