Chapter 26
Carly: So, I messaged Dorothy.
It was yesterday that I found her and told him about it, but I got busy and didn’t have the time to write a thoughtful, sensitive message to her.
Jameson: Oh yeah? Has she replied?
Carly: Yes, actually. Just now.
Jameson: And you texted me immediately?
Carly: Yes…
Jameson: Thank you. I feel honored.
Carly: Well, we’re in this together now, remember?
Jameson: Yep. I do. So, what did she say?
Carly: She wants to meet. Today. She seemed very anxious, actually. I know we weren’t supposed to meet until tomorrow, but…
Jameson: What time? I’ll pick you up.
Carly: You’re in town?
I had no idea he was here, but I guess I’ll ask about that later. Did I expect him to message me the second he came back? I don’t know…
Jameson: Yes.
Carly: Okay. Let me ask her what time is good. I’ll get back to you.
**
Two hours later, I’m hopping into a shiny new SUV—different from the Land Rover. At least it’s not the motorcycle.
Jameson shuts the door behind me, walks around to the driver side, and hops in. He smiles at me before reversing out of my driveway.
I expected him to just text when he arrived, but of course he showed up on my doorstep with a gentle knock, grinning and looking excited for our little meeting—interview, whatever this is.
“I don’t have too long. I have to be at the school in a few hours.”
He nods. “So, this lady must be what…in her eighties?”
“Yep. Something like that. And using social media. Good for her.”
“Yeah,” he nods again, and I glance over at him as he watches the road. He looks pensive—the wheels are turning in his mind. He must feel me staring, because he side-eyes me with an amused look. “What?”
“What are you thinking?”
“I’m just wondering what happened. What do you think?”
“Honestly?” I pull at a loose string on the frayed part of my jeans. “I’m hoping she’s still out there somewhere. Escaped the most-likely-abusive husband, you know?”
The corner of his mouth turns up, and he shifts his eyes back to the road. His eyes really light up in the sunlight.
“I think so too,” he agrees.
**
Twenty minutes later, we pull into a dirt driveway, the mailbox with the house number our only clue that this is the right place. The house itself is buried back in the trees, giving it a slightly creepy, ominous feel.
A hundred yards later or so, a small, older home fully emerges. It’s not the usual log-cabin style that’s common around here. It looks a bit rundown, but somehow cozy at the same time. The creepy vibes I was getting dissipate.
“It looks like a cozy cottage that a nice old witch would live in,” I comment, still taking it in.
Jameson laughs beside me. “That’s not creepy at all?”
“No, like a nice, friendly old witch who simply wants to live in the forest by herself. Not the kind that lures children in.”
“Right…” He laughs again.
“Well, let’s do this.”
“You ready?” he asks, not yet moving to get out of the vehicle.
“Yep.” I glance over at him. “Oh my gosh. Are you…scared?”
“No,” he grumbles, pulling his door open and stepping out. “What could possibly go wrong?” he says before shutting his door.
The sound of wind chimes fills the air as we approach the adorable front porch. I can tell she’s a woman after my own heart. Her porch is decorated with all kinds of autumn and Halloween-themed items—black cats, pumpkins, porcelain witch statues, a cauldron, and more. She covered every base.
Jameson stands beside me as he knocks, but he seems to be purposely placing himself just slightly ahead of me.
We stand in almost complete silence for several moments, only the wind chimes breaking the quiet of the secluded forest.
Finally, the door slowly opens, and a frail old woman answers. She studies us for only a moment before smiling and pulling the door open wider, as if deciding in an instant that she trusts us.
“Carly?” she asks. Her voice is much more chipper than I would have imagined for a woman her age.
“Yes! And this is Jameson.” I point my thumb toward him.
“Oh. Handsome!” she remarks with the shameless courage of a woman who has lived a very long life.
My cheeks are fighting hard against the huge grin on my face as I glance over at him. He doesn’t look hesitant at all anymore. In fact, he looks at her with respect and kindness in his eyes. “Thank you, ma’am”
“Oh, what would you need to thank me for?” she says with a wave of her hand. “Please, come in!”
Jameson steps inside first, looking back to make sure I’m following.
“I love what you’ve done with the porch.”
“Oh, thank you, dear. I pay my grandson to change my decorations every season. I just love holidays. In the wintertime I like to sell hot cocoa downtown, you know? The tourists love it. Say I look like Mrs. Clause.”
“We’ll have to come try some this season,” Jameson remarks.
“Oh, you should. Both of you. Such a beautiful couple you are!”
“Oh, we’re—”
“We will.” Jameson cuts me off with a grin.
“Good. It’s the best in town. My grandson helps me make it, as I’m getting a little old and frail. The winters are getting a bit more brutal on my old bones. I’m the face of the operation though, I can’t retire just yet.” She motions for us to take a seat on the floral couch across from her.
“I’m not sure how I’ve missed it before. I’ve lived here for years.”
“It seems to find people when they most need it,” she says with a mysterious glint in her eyes. Okay, maybe she is slightly batty in her old age. But it’s charming.
“So, as I explained, I found your article about your friend, Elizabeth. And we just had some questions, if you wouldn’t mind?”
“Of course, dear. I’m just curious, though. If you’re not a reporter like you said, then why the sudden interest? It was so long ago. No one has cared or mentioned it in a long, long time.” Her voice takes on a somber note by the end.
“Well, it’s interesting, actually. So, I’m his realtor, and I was showing him their old house. I didn’t know beforehand what had happened, but we wandered into the attic and found a box of her things, and I became a little intrigued.”
Jameson raises a brow, side-eyeing me.
“Okay, a lot intrigued. And then I ran into an officer I’m familiar with, and he gave me a brief background of the case.”
“And then she took a deep dive, and now we’re fully invested in it,” Jameson adds.
She smiles, and I can see the joy touch her eyes. Like she’s thankful someone is interested in her friend’s story again. I wonder how close they were. If she never fully got over the devastating event.
“Well, what would you like to know?”
“Were you close with her?”
“Yes. She was my best friend. We went to school together our entire lives. Never left this town. It was much quieter around here back then.” She takes a deep breath.
We both silently wait for her to continue.
“We went to school with her husband, David. He was always kind of a smug jerk. Never cared for him. It wasn’t long after we graduated that they got engaged, and then married soon after.
Never had kids, though. I suspected he wasn’t great to her, and it wasn’t long into their marriage that I started seeing a lot of bruises and marks.
He was hitting her. She never told me, but I knew.
To the town, he was the Sheriff’s young, endearing son. But he didn’t fool me.”
She takes a sip from her coffee. “Did you want anything to drink? I apologize. I just got right into it. What a terrible host I am.”
“I’m okay,” I answer, looking over at Jameson for the first time since we sat down. I was so engrossed in her story I tuned out all of my surroundings.
“That’s okay,” he adds, turning and meeting my gaze.
“Okay. Well let me know if you change your mind.”
“Thank you,” Jameson says.
“So anyway, where was I? The disappearance happened what, a year after they got married? Of course, the husband is always the top suspect, and he was allegedly looked into, but I don’t think they took me seriously when I told them what I suspected.
I had nothing concrete and no one else to back me up.
Or they did, and Daddy had it brushed under the rug.
I can’t be sure. It all blew over so fast. Back then, in a small town like this where daddy is in charge of the law…
who knows what really happened. I didn’t have much proof of anything, as they reminded me.
She never once filed a report about his abuse. I felt helpless. Like I failed her.”
“So…” I start, clearing my throat. “What do you really think happened?”
“Well, there’s one other thing. Something I told the police also, but I never heard a thing about it again.”
“What is it?” I ask, intrigued.
“Well, she never knew this, but I saw her one time, not long before her disappearance. I saw her with another man. And they looked…comfortable together.”
We had heard that bit of information from Jameson’s investigator already, but it still feels like a bomb has been dropped, hearing a living witness say it out loud.
Not to mention this witness was a close friend and thought they seemed comfortable together.
Like an affair, perhaps. That’s significant.
“It’s strange, isn’t it? Of course, all I ever had was a vague description from quite far away…but you would think they could come up with something more. Anything.”
“So, do you think…do you think that mystery man did something?”
She huffs out a breath. “Honestly? No, I don’t think so. I knew her and I knew the way she acted with him in that brief moment…he was a lover. And I never saw or heard about him again. I think her husband caught them and ended them both in a fit of rage. And got away with it.”
“Wow,” I release a breath. “That opens up so many more possibilities.”
I look to Jameson, who is spaced out, rubbing his chin, and clearly surprised and thinking out the possibilities, just like I am.
“I just wish I knew,” Dorothy says with a haunted look in her eyes.
“We’re going to keep looking into it,” Jameson vows. She looks at him sweetly, like she’s unconvinced but appreciates his gesture, nonetheless. “I have a private investigator looking into any information.”
She perks up at that. “You’ll let me know if you find anything? You’ll come back?” Her eyes dance between the two of us. “…The both of you?”
I smile.
“We will,” Jameson assures her before I have a chance to form an answer.
And then we leave with a bag of cookies, and Jameson drops me back at my house all too fast. I wish I could make the afternoon last longer, but I’ll see him again soon.
“I’ll see you tomorrow,” he says, a promise in his eyes.