Chapter Seven #2
“It might be nothing,” he said. “But considering someone has already shot at Ian once, it would be a good idea to play it safe.”
“Someone shot at you?” Carter shouldered through the crowd that had gathered to stand beside Bethany. “When? Who?”
“Sunday afternoon,” Ian said.
“And you were there?” Carter’s face was red, his voice raised. “Bethany, you need to stay away from the canyon and from Ian.”
“You can’t tell me what to do,” she countered, then she turned on Jake. “You need to find out who’s making these threats. Have you looked at Walt Spies?”
“Why Walt Spies?” he asked.
“He owns land next to Humboldt Canyon,” she said. “Maybe he wanted to buy it and Ian beat him to the punch. And he’s leading the protests against the via ferrata.”
“Leaving vague notes like this doesn’t seem like Walt’s style,” Jake said. “But we’ll keep an eye on him. In the meantime, let us know if you notice anyone following you or anything at all happens to unsettle you.” He held up the note. “Can I keep this?”
“I don’t want it,” Ian said.
“So many people have handled it at this point that we won’t be able to recover fingerprints or DNA, but maybe the handwriting will tell us something,” Jake said. “If nothing else, it could be evidence when we do find who’s threatening you.”
The crowd began to disperse. “We need to go,” Carter said.
“You two wait at the car,” Bethany said. “I want to talk to Ian.”
“Bethany.” Her brother looked stern.
She glared at him, and after a moment, he backed off. “Don’t be too long.”
When they were alone, Bethany moved closer to Ian. He started to apologize for putting her in this predicament, but she put a finger to his lips. “I’m not going to stay away from Humboldt Canyon, but I’ll only come in the daytime.”
“I don’t think it’s a good idea for us to be seen together,” he said. “That’s what made you a target in the first place.”
“I don’t care what some jerk thinks of me,” she said. “But as long as we’re in public, they can’t do anything to me.” She put her arm around his waist and laid her head on his shoulder.
His arm went around her automatically and pulled her close. He wasn’t convinced she would be safe with him, but how much more would he worry if he couldn’t see her? “All right,” he said. “As long as we’re in public, we can still see each other. I can come to the office.”
“Or to my house.”
He suppressed a groan. “Your brothers already don’t like me. And when I went to your parents’ house looking for you tonight, they didn’t seem too happy to see me, either.”
“Once they know you better, they’ll learn to love you.”
Ian wasn’t so sure about that, but for her, he was willing to give it a try.
“Come by the office tomorrow afternoon,” she said. “I want your help with something.”
“What’s that?”
“I want to try to find out more about Abby and Gerald Boston. Maybe the historical society has old newspapers we can look through. If they were newlyweds, there should have been a wedding announcement.”
“That probably won’t tell us anything about who might have murdered them,” he said.
“No, but I’d like to know more about them.”
“Yeah. I would, too. All right, I’ll see you tomorrow.” He bent and kissed her lightly, aware that her brothers were probably watching. But he had spent a lot of years not caring what other people thought of him. No need to change now.
* * *
Bethany had never visited the Eagle Mountain Historical Society—or any historical society, for that matter. The Victorian-era cottage two blocks off Main Street housed a museum focused on local history as well as an archive of documents, books and photographs related to the area’s past.
“This is so cute,” she said as she and Ian stopped just inside the doorway to admire a wall display of household items from two centuries before, carefully labeled for modern visitors—a button hook, butter churn, collar stays, bed warmer and ink well.
“Hey, Bethany.”
She turned and was surprised to see fellow search and rescue volunteer Caleb Garrison. “Caleb! How nice to see you. Do you know Ian Seabrook?”
“I’ve heard of you.” He offered his hand to Ian, and they shook. “Caleb Garrison.”
Bethany noticed the name tag pinned to his shirt. “Do you work here?”
“I’m a volunteer. My day job is teaching history, but it’s my hobby, too. Have you visited the museum before?”
“No,” she said. “And I’d love to tour it some time, but today we’re here to do some research in the archives.”
“Sure.” He led the way across the hall. “The archives room was added a few years ago. Much better than the basement where everything was stored previously. What can I help you with?”
“We’re looking for anything we can find about Gerald and Abby Boston, who lived in Eagle Mountain fifty years ago.”
“Can you tell me anything else about them?” he asked. “Do you know what jobs they held or if they had any children?”
“I don’t think there were any children,” she said. “All I really know is that they were newlyweds who disappeared not too long after their wedding.”
“Let’s start with the census records. That will give us more information about their families.
” He moved to a table in the center of the room and opened a laptop.
“We used to keep census records on microfiche, but now they’re digitized online.
You can search by name and location and should find a match pretty quickly. When did they live here?”
She glanced at Ian. “We’re not sure,” she said. “They died fifty years ago. Approximately.”
“No problem. Let’s start with 1970 census and work forward from there.” Caleb typed rapidly, then turned the screen toward them. “I think this is the man you’re looking for. Gerald Boston, born 1949, death date unknown.”
Bethany met Ian’s gaze. She turned back to studying the computer screen and gasped. “This says he was married to a woman named Katherine Berringer.” She leaned closer. “Born 1950, died 1985. Only thirty-five years old. But that would have been after Gerald died.”
“Maybe Katherine’s middle name was Abigail?” Ian suggested.
Bethany shook her head. “This shows her middle name as Elizabeth.”
“Maybe it’s a different Gerald Boston,” Ian suggested.
“This is the only one on record living in Eagle Mountain in 1970,” Caleb said. “Let’s try the 1980 census.” He typed again, then shook his head. “No Gerald Boston here.”
“Try Katherine Boston or Katherine Berringer,” Bethany suggested.
More typing. Caleb nodded. “Katherine Boston was living here then. The same address as before.”
“Maybe she was a first wife,” Ian said. “Can we find out if Gerald was divorced?”
“You can request that information in writing from the state archives,” Caleb said. “Though without a specific date, that might take longer to find.”
“What about marriages? Can we find out if there’s any record of Gerald marrying Abby?”
“Marriage records after 1960 are private,” Caleb said. “Though if there was an announcement in the paper, you might find it there.”
“How do we do that?” Ian asked.
“Follow me.” He led them to the far end of the room and a shelf stacked with oversize folders.
“These are all the issues of the Eagle Mountain Examiner prior to when they began digitizing them, about 2010.” He reached up and pulled a volume off a shelf.
“This is 1975. Even then, the paper only came out once a week, so you should be able to get through them fairly quickly.”
“I’ll take 1975,” Ian said and reached for the folder.
Bethany took the folder for 1976, and they moved to a large worktable in the center of the room and began flipping through the papers.
Bethany scanned the pages of newsprint, stopping to marvel at photographs of young women in short skirts and men with long hair and sideburns.
“Did you know you could buy a hamburger for thirty-five cents in 1976?” she asked.
“You’re supposed to be looking for a marriage announcement,” Ian said.
“Sorry. You’re right.” She flipped faster, scanning the pages and forcing herself not to stop to read the articles about local politics or school events.
Halfway through the folder, she realized there was a section at the center of each issue of the paper that listed events that had taken place in the previous week, from birthdays of people in town to anniversaries, funerals and marriages.
She scanned this column closely, learning that Patsy Lehring turned six years old Friday, celebrating with a family party with cake and ice cream.
And Pete and Donna Farber celebrated twenty-four years of wedded bliss on Tuesday.
“I think I found it,” Ian said.
Bethany moved over to stand beside him. His finger hovered over the page, pointing to an item.
She leaned forward and read, “‘Gerald Boston and Abigail Simpson were wed in a civil ceremony at the Rayford County Courthouse last Wednesday afternoon, Judge Patrick Simmons presiding.’” She grinned at Ian.
“That’s it. Katherine must have been George’s first wife. ”
“Would she hate him enough to kill him?” he wondered.
“Find what you need?” Caleb rejoined them.
“Yes,” Bethany said. “But how can we find out more about Katherine Berringer Boston?”
“We could start with a web search of the name.” He moved to the laptop. After a few moments of typing, he shook his head. “I’m not finding anything. And the census records show she lived here most of her life. She never remarried and apparently didn’t have any children.”
“Aaron said George’s nephew still lives in town,” Ian said. “Maybe we can find and talk to him.” He checked his phone. “But I really need to go now. I have a teleconference.”
“I’ll do a little more research online at home and see if I can find Gerald’s nephew,” Bethany said.
They thanked Caleb and left the museum. “Have you heard from any more protestors?” she asked.
“Nothing. What about you? Anyone suspicious hanging around? Any odd phone calls or notes left on your car?”
“Nothing. I think that note was just someone’s lame idea of trying to get your attention. I haven’t felt like I was in danger for even one minute.”
“I hope you’re right.”
“And I hope all of this will blow over,” she said. “It’s so silly anyway.”
He studied her for so long that she grew warmer in the heat of his gaze. She put a hand to her cheek. “What are you staring at?”
“I want to tell you to stay away from the canyon for your own good, but I’m beginning to realize you’re going to do what you want to anyway.”
“You’re a smart man.” She smiled. “And admit it—you want to see me, don’t you? And you want to show off what you’re doing in the canyon.”
He leaned down and brushed his lips across her cheek, sending a thrill through her. “Yes, I want to see you. And yes, I want you to see what I’m doing. But be careful.”
“Always.” Careful with her person. Not always careful with her heart.