Chapter 8 #3
He opened the door and let himself inside, eager to find a rag to mop his already sweaty brow.
The Thomases had been apologetic when giving him this cabin.
For his purposes, he hadn’t minded the cobwebs, the broken furniture and the dusty tumbleweeds rolling across the floor.
But now, in the fading light of day, he couldn’t ignore the dirt or keep walking in and out of the mess either.
He set the screen and the toolbox inside the door.
In the corner of the cabin, he found a broom and got to work, knocking things down and sneezing up a storm.
His eyes watered. He’d need allergy medicine for sure, but he’d maybe get a good night’s sleep from the exertion and medication.
Half the bristles were missing on the broom he found.
Not surprising, given where he located it.
But still frustrating and requiring extra effort to make any sort of progress.
As he swept dirt into a corner, the broom stuck.
He didn’t want to rip the broom up, potentially ripping off more of the bristles and leaving him with just a wooden stick.
He knelt on the ground to inspect the problem.
One board rose a centimeter out of position with the planks next to it. He noticed a knot had dried up and fallen out. Sticking his index finger in the hole, he gently pulled, and the small board lifted, revealing a secret compartment and a spiral bound book inside.
Daniel reached inside and retrieved the dusty and stained blue binding, opening to reveal Owen’s journal dating to the summer of 2006.
Daniel flipped through the pages, scanning quickly over the contents and reading about the youthful buzz of first love. Liz’s name was scrawled on nearly every sheet, written with a loopy reverence not shown in the rest of his chicken scratch.
“Why would she come back?” a female voice asked. “I wouldn’t. Never in a million years.”
Daniel stayed low, tucking the journal back into its hiding spot before creeping to the open window.
“I think it’s brave. Facing your fears,” another woman replied.
With a quick glance over the windowsill, Daniel confirmed that both were strangers to him. The pair could have been campers during that last summer. He’d only gotten to know the other counselors because of the twins. Plenty of the guests this weekend were women he’d never met.
He pressed his body low, his cheek scratching against the rough plank wall.
“Or covering your tracks,” the first woman said, her voice husky.
Daniel gritted his teeth, not daring to breathe. During an active investigation, he had to absorb and process every shred of evidence he came across. He could filter out fiction from fact later. He hated that he agreed with mystery woman’s assessment of the situation. Was she a suspect as well?
“The whole thing is strange,” the woman continued. “And don’t get me started on Maggot. Putting on airs. Like we’re supposed to be impressed? Money talks wealth whispers.”
“She’s old money. The new look and new personality must be the husband. The whole image. I wouldn’t want to be in the spotlight. She seems okay. All things considered.”
“She’s always been strange. I’m glad to get out of here while I can. Before something else happens.”
Daniel held his breath, straining for every last word. That was ominous to say.
“What are you taking about, Jill? Did you hear something? Should we tell that cop?”
At least Jill’s companion had common sense. She restored his belief in the good of people.
“No, nothing like that. Just a bad vibe. Being around the sister, the weirdo, and those cliquey girls isn’t helping either. Some people grow up, others remain trapped in middle school antics,” Jill said.
“Do you think the rumors were true? About Jennifer in a hit and run?”
Daniel’s ear perked up at that tidbit.
“Who knows?” Jill asked. “After Liz’s accident, she stuck out to me. She’d been frantic and inconsolable, sobbing more than the sister. This whole place feels like a haunted house. I’m not trying to scare you, and I feel bad for the Thomas parents. But I’m glad to be heading out.”
“Me too.”
The voices quieted as the women moved on. Daniel took a deep breath and counted to ten before he straightened. In his experience, he knew the comments the women made in passing wouldn’t stick with the pair. Their words had left quite an impression on him.
When had Jennifer been in an accident? Why?
What had happened? The women admitted to discussing gossip, probably rehashed over the decades and twisted from the truth.
But if Jennifer had already been in a similar accident, she might know how to extricate herself from the crash with Owen.
And if two people were involved in what had happened, the shootings, the strangling, the driving, and the executing, he might have a better sense of how everything could have unfolded.
He had plenty to think about and a lot of reading for the night ahead. Was the journal the secret he’d needed to uncover? He worried most about Emma’s role. Without her memories, she was the most obvious target. She wouldn’t know who to suspect and couldn’t prepare against an attack.
Using her as bait rubbed him wrong, and he refused to endanger her.
He worried his myopia blurred his vision for trouble on the periphery.
And that his desire to shield and protect her would obscure his professional duty.
She was his guiding light and his blind spot.
If he figured that puzzle out, he might have a chance to solve the mystery and save them all.