Chapter 15
Morgan blinked rapidly. “Hailey is not who we think she is?”
“It’ll make more sense if I show you what I’m talking about.” Grace lifted the lid on the laptop and tapped the keys. She stopped tapping and handed it to her friend. “This.”
Morgan grew quiet, reading a Port Huron news story from roughly a year ago, about a woman who was employed by a local hotel and found a deceased guest in a room. Her hand flew to her lips. “Hailey found the body?”
“Putting the pieces together, I believe so. It lists the employee’s name near the bottom.”
Morgan skimmed the rest of the story. The very last paragraph gave the name of the employee—Hailey Clark. “Hailey’s last name is Varnum.”
“It’s possible I’m way off track, but my gut tells me this is her.”
“You mentioned recent incidents,” Morgan prompted. “Like what?”
“We were chatting a week or so ago, outside one of the units. Hailey bent over to pick up a coffee packet she had dropped, and a knife fell out of her apron pocket.”
“A kitchen knife?”
“More like a hunting knife.” Grace held her hands apart. “About this long.”
“Did you ask her why she was carrying it around in her pocket?”
“Yes. She blew it off and mumbled something about using it to cut some rope.”
“Rope for what?” Morgan handed the laptop back.
“She basically ignored the question. Maybe I’m imagining things, but she’s struck me as being nervous when I tried to pin her down about it. She also seems jittery.”
“I noticed it too. Like she’s afraid of her own shadow.” Morgan recalled a specific incident right after Christmas when she’d run into Hailey at the grocery store. She tapped her on the shoulder, and the poor girl nearly jumped out of her skin. “Have you met Hailey’s aunt?”
“Once. She stopped by to drop Hailey’s keys off.”
“What did you think?”
“She seemed fine…normal, pleasant and polite,” Grace said. “Her name is Jennie. Jennie Varnum.”
“Maybe you should…”
“Check Jennie…Jennifer Varnum on the internet? I have. Nothing came up.”
“I guess we’ll have to wait to see how this shakes out.” Morgan slowly stood. “My main concern is Greg. He’s falling for Hailey, and I would hate to see him get hurt.”
“Me too.” Grace followed suit. “I point-blank asked Grady about it. He wouldn’t answer, which leads me to believe Hailey from the story is our Hailey.”
“And now she and her aunt are MIA. Hopefully, she didn’t witness some horrific crime, came to Easton Island to escape, and whoever was behind the guest’s death is now after her, thinking she may have heard or seen something.”
“A hundred different scenarios have run through my mind. The bottom line is she’s always been somewhat fearful. I have no idea why she’s carrying a hunting knife around, and there are very few details about what happened in the hotel room when Hailey Clark found a body.”
Morgan glanced at her watch. “I need to get going. Please keep me updated.”
“Absolutely. Hopefully, we’ll get to the bottom of what’s going on sooner rather than later.”
Back at Locke Pointe, Morgan tackled her to-do list, answering email messages from potential guests who had specific questions, going over Tina’s meal plan for breakfast and the daily social hour for the upcoming month, approving a few small expenses, routine maintenance items Greg requested, which reminded her of Grady’s visit and Hailey’s disappearance.
The woman and her aunt had planned the trip, even if it happened last minute. Perhaps they were merely “out of pocket” with poor cell service. It was fairly common, especially in more remote areas of Michigan.
But if the two were in Port Huron, it was a large city with reliable internet. Unless they had traveled elsewhere. Was Hailey Varnum also Hailey Clark? Had she inadvertently stumbled upon a dead body…or was there more to the story?
Grady had a reason for wanting to track her down, one he couldn’t discuss.
Morgan briefly considered asking Wyatt but didn’t want to put him on the spot.
Besides, she had enough on her plate—Jason being released from prison, concern over Prissy’s mental health decline, helping Tristan adapt to his new home.
She finished her tasks and tidied up her office. With a brief stop by the kitchen to see if Tina needed a hand, she tracked Chester down and they headed out.
Because Looking Glass Cottage was on her way to Wyatt’s, Morgan stopped to check on her home. All seemed in order…no fresh tire tracks or footprints in the snow, her windows and doors were secure.
Chester, with both paws on the dashboard, watched Morgan walk along the front, side and back. She returned to her SUV and climbed in. “The coast is clear, buddy. No sign of Jason, at least not yet.”
She pulled out of the driveway and onto the street, taking the main drag to Easton Harbor. As Morgan got close to the Easton Estate’s turnoff, she noticed a familiar vehicle, blinker on and slowing to make the turn. It was Brett.
He noticed her and gave a friendly wave.
“Let’s check in with Brett.” Morgan tracked him all the way to the estate’s parking area. She exited her vehicle and met him near the driver’s side door. “You’re back.”
“I got everything wrapped up a little early, so I thought I would surprise Tristan and take him for a ride on the snowmobile.”
“He’ll be ecstatic.” Morgan told her brother that he’d seemed sad and mentioned missing his uncle.
“He told me the same thing,” Brett said. “I figured bucking some snowdrifts would cheer him up. Why don’t you come with us?”
“On the snowmobile?”
“Sure. We have two. You’ve driven them before, right?”
“Last year. I might be a little rusty,” she warned.
“We can stay off the winding trails and stick to the open fields, which are easier to navigate.”
“Are you sure you don’t want to do a little father and son bonding?”
“Of course, but there’s nothing wrong with father, son, aunt, and nephew bonding too.”
“Wyatt won’t be home until later, so I have plenty of time.”
A look of surprise flickered across Brett’s face. “Have you and Wyatt moved in together?”
Morgan briefly filled him in on what had transpired. “Until we can figure out where Jason is, I’m hanging out at his place.”
“While he works nights?”
“He switched to days for the time being.”
Brett hooted. “That’s what I call being in love.”
“Speaking of love.” Morgan let Chester out. While the pup ran ahead, she linked arms with her brother as they meandered toward the back door. “Quinn could use a little R&R with her main squeeze.”
“I know, and I feel guilty about spending every free second with Tristan. In the same breath, I feel guilty if I’m not with him, helping him adjust.”
“Invite Quinn to go snowmobiling with us.”
Brett warmed to the idea. “I think I will.” As soon as they got inside, he took off to let Tristan know he was back and text Quinn, inviting her to hang out with them.
“Poor guy.” Mrs. Arnsby, who was standing in the kitchen and caught the tail end of their conversation, tsk-tsked. “Brett doesn’t know if he’s coming or going.”
“Hopefully, only until Tristan settles in. Starting school and having a set schedule will help,” Morgan said.
“I agree. The boy needs structure. Reading between the lines, the last few months have been anything but.” The cook bustled out of the kitchen, returning with an armful of ski jackets and snow pants. “I suppose if Quinn goes, she has her own snow pants and ski jacket.”
“Maybe I should start carrying mine around in my car,” Morgan said.
“You could also add a bag of kitty litter.”
“Kitty litter?”
“In case your car gets stuck in the snow. You put it under your tires to help give you traction.”
“I’ve never heard that before in my life. I’ll have to buy a bag.”
The door flew open, and a whirlwind, also known as Tristan, raced into the room. “We’re going snowmobiling.”
Brett appeared moments later. “I don’t think Tristan is excited,” he kidded.
“Is Quinn going with us?”
“She’s on her way and should be here soon.”
“How long will you be gone?” Mrs. Arnsby asked.
“A couple of hours. We’ll head out through the back of the property and take the power lines to the other side. I promised Morgan we wouldn’t hit the trails, which are a little trickier to navigate.”
“Can I take a snack with me in case I get hungry?” Tristan asked.
The cook ruffled his hair. “This is one powerful eating machine. I don’t know where Tristan puts it, but I would like to know his secret.”
“He doesn’t sit still,” Brett said. “At least he’s not sitting in front of the television playing video games.”
“Mom would let me play games, but only for an hour a day.”
“How do two crustless PB&Js, sliced apples, banana chips and fruit juice sound?”
“I can eat all of it.”
In the blink of an eye, Mrs. Arnsby had packed a lunch sack with the listed items and added a slice of Tristan’s new favorite—leftover carrot cake.
“Aunt Morgan says I’m the carrot cake kid,” Tristan told Brett. “Cuz I thought it was gross until I tasted it. She paid me five dollars.”
“Five dollars to try one of my favorite cakes?” Brett’s smile grew wider. “I think I know who came out on the better end of the deal.”
The back door slammed, and Quinn appeared. “Sorry if I’m late.”
Brett gave her a quick kiss. “You’re not late. Besides, we’re not in a hurry. Mrs. Arnsby was packing snacks for Tristan.”
“Are we going to be gone for a while? I thought it was only for a couple of hours.”
“Tristan is a growing boy and burns more calories in a day than I burn in a month, so we’re keeping his engine firing on all cylinders,” Morgan said.
Her brother clapped his hands. “Now that we’re all here, let’s get this show, or in this case, the snowmobiles on the road.”
While Tristan dressed in his warm winter gear in record time, the adults took a little longer to suit up.
After finishing, they crossed the driveway and found two sleek, shiny black snowmobiles parked alongside the garage, ready to ride.
Ben appeared. “Where are you headed?”
“To the other side of the island.” Tristan patted the handlebar. “Do you think we can drive on the lake?”
“It’s frozen solid, so I think it’ll be safe.”
“Aye, the lake is solid as a rock,” Ben said. “Just don’t go near the area where the icebreaker comes through.”
“We’ll most definitely steer clear.” Brett worked on securing Tristan’s helmet while Ben helped Morgan and Quinn.
With the helmet firmly in place, Morgan swung her bulky boot over the side of the sled. She fired up the snowmobile and waited for Quinn to slide in behind her.
Brett and Tristan took the lead, cutting through the back of the property. He opened the throttle and sped off across the open field.
Morgan tightened her grip and let ‘er rip.
Quinn held onto her friend’s waist, whooping loudly as they flew over the powdery snow. Crisp, clear skies. Wide open fields of white for as far as the eye could see.
Morgan noticed a row of trees and eased up on the throttle. Brett waited for the women to catch up and lifted his helmet’s visor. “We’ll need to go down the hill to reach the shoreline. Are you up to it?”
Morgan studied the trail—wide enough for her sled with some wiggle room on both sides. “Yeah. I can handle it.”
“Let’s roll!” Tristan lifted his fisted glove in the air and off they went.
While Brett navigated the zigs and zags with ease, Morgan drove a little more cautiously and at a slower pace.
Finally clearing the path and forest, they arrived at the main road, leading all the way around the island. After checking for traffic, they crossed over and reached the shoreline.
Brett shifted to the side, giving her a hand signal, his way of asking her if she wanted to drive on the lake.
Morgan’s heart hammered in her chest. Riding on trails and across open fields was one thing, but driving a heavy sled with two riders over ice?
Quinn nudged her shoulder. “I say we go. If Brett and Ben think the ice is safe, we should be fine.”
Despite the tiny nagging voice in Morgan’s ear, she refused to be the party pooper. She gave her brother a thumbs up.
Brett hit the gas and drove onto frozen Lake Huron. Morgan hesitated for half a second. She hoped they were right and that she and the others weren’t about to break through and fall into the icy waters with no one around to rescue them.