Chapter Forty-Three
He remembers Haven Cliff.
He’s never been there before, but he’s certainly heard of it. Anyone who’s ever spent any amount of time in Mulberry Bay knows about the abandoned Gilded Age estate, its ill-fated former residents, and the curse.
He supposes there’s a certain logic to her suggestion that they meet here, since there aren’t many unpopulated places around here on a holiday weekend.
But she was so specific in her instructions.
Coming from town, follow Route 28 along the lake. You’ll see a big intersection where there’s a Lowe’s on one side and Home Depot on the other.
Yeah. He knows the intersection. He was out there yesterday, buying the tarp, rope, shovel . . .
7/10 of a mile past the intersection on the left, you’ll see a big sign that says Coming Soon: Trolley Park Beach 2K. It’s a construction project adjacent to Haven Cliff. Turn in and follow the road down to the lake. Ignore the No Trespassing signs. No one’s working there.
He knows the site, a long-abandoned turn-of-the-century waterfront amusement park. Yesterday, he saw tall construction cranes poking up from the treetops and the sign indicating that the park is being rebuilt. He noted that in postmillennial Mulberry Bay, everything old is being made new again.
Park in the empty dirt lot where the dumpsters are.
From there, you can walk along the water to the stone steps that lead up to Haven Cliff.
Follow the path past the picnic pavilion through the woods till you come to a clearing.
You’ll see tennis courts and a swimming pool excavation.
I’ll meet you by the brick colonnade. There’s a map attached.
He studied it, a printout of an online terrain map electronically marked up with red arrows and a circle. Then he compared it to the area on his own map app.
Considering the furtive, roundabout, specific path she designated for him, if he didn’t know better, he might think he was being set up.
But no, he confirmed the match on the Lost and Found website. They share 25 percent DNA. He may not know her name, but he’s certain that she is exactly who she says she is.
Still, he’s not about to follow her convoluted route to Haven Cliff. He’ll need to park as close as possible to the meeting spot because he’ll have to get her into his car trunk afterward. He’s going to arrive early, set the stage, get acclimated.
He passes the Trolley Park Beach site, slows, and turns into the old estate itself, marked by a scrolled iron sign that reads Haven Cliff.
He knows the dirt lane will lead to the site where the house once stood.
From there he can find his way along the trail to the tennis courts and pool.
The clearing in the woods was plainly visible in the terrain shot on his map app.
He rounds a bend and sees not the overgrown ruins of a stone mansion, but a broad green lawn and the mansion itself, resurrected and quite clearly occupied.
He hits the brakes and gapes at the blooming gardens, bubbling fountain, and SUV parked beside the portico. No wonder she told him to take the back way onto the property.
Belatedly, he sees the man about to climb into the driver’s seat. He’s wearing sunglasses, a pink polo shirt, madras board shorts, and flip-flops.
It’s too late to make a U-turn and get the hell out of here. He’s been spotted. The man waves and stands expectantly beside his car, watching him. There’s nothing to do but move on into the circular drive, pull up alongside him, and roll down the window.
Hoping it’s not obvious how hard he’s clenching the wheel, he pastes on a friendly smile and speaks first. “Hey, there. Sorry, I think I’m lost.”
“What are you looking for? Not sure I can help you—I’m not from here—but I’ll try.”
Now the smile is genuine, because this guy just made the ruse a whole lot easier. He can make up any old address and it won’t be an obvious fake to a nonlocal.
“I’m trying to find 123 Mason Road?”
“You got me there, but I’ll look it up for you.” The man pulls a cell phone out of his pocket and starts to approach.
“Oh, that’s okay; I’m pretty sure it’s over by Home Depot. I was just looking for a place to turn around, if you don’t mind?”
“Have at it.” The guy steps back, tucking his phone away.
“Thank you, sir. Have a great day now.” He waves, rolls up his window, and makes the turn.
As he drives away, he checks his rearview mirror and sees the guy watching him until he’s out of sight.