Midnight Sacrifice (23 page)

Mandy stopped, remembering he’d been to war. How many people had he killed? Did their deaths haunt him at night? “I’m sorry.”

Danny kept walking. There was no cowardice in his strides, just pent-up fury and determination. No. Danny would never walk away from a challenge. He’d meet it head-on. No matter what it cost him. Or her.

He had to go.

Mandy got into her car and started the engine. She did not invite him to ride with her. On the way to the meeting, she pictured the chamber members. Other than her, they were probably the people closest to Nathan.

Was one of the chamber members blackmailing her? She hoped so. The thought of insane Nathan freely running around her backyard sent paralyzing fear into her bones. She doubted he was dead. Nathan was a survivor. It was in his bones. Even if he wanted to give up, he wouldn’t be able to. Persistence was a genetic flaw. Nathan couldn’t help himself.

She heard Danny’s car start up.

Just as Danny couldn’t leave until he’d exhausted all his opportunities to free his sister from fear.

Nathan was a gregarious and charismatic man, but he didn’t have close personal friendships. As far as she knew, he had family and business associates and Mandy. She couldn’t even remember him dating anyone, ever. Huntsville was a small town. Rumors spread like crabgrass in a pristine lawn. If Nathan had had any other affairs, he’d ventured to another town or he’d concealed them as well as he’d kept their relationship secret. Had he chatted up another lonely woman? Charmed her with his sad story? Told her how beautiful she was and made her feel special?

Could he have had another secret affair? Discomfort tempted her to brush the idea away. It was bad enough he’d charmed her and lied to her. To think she was just one of many was somehow worse.

Mandy turned onto Main Street, drove a few blocks, and made a left. Since the diner had closed and the municipal building burned down, the coffee shop/bookstore had taken over as the gossip hub of Huntsville. The chamber of commerce met there every week for coffee. Usually she let her mom handle town politics, but Mandy had taken over that aspect of their business as well. She’d blown off the last few meetings, but today she was going to change her ways. As the former mayor and owner of the town diner, Nathan had dealt with the town business committee on a constant basis. What did his associates know about him?

It was just ten o’clock when she rushed into Ray’s Books ’N Brew and took the stairs to the second floor. The smell of Ray’s signature freshly ground dark roast hit her hard. She splurged on a latte and a cinnamon bun. As much as she enjoyed cooking, sometimes food she didn’t have to prepare tasted all the sweeter.

“Mandy! Over here.” The shop owner, Ray, waved from a small table. He gestured to the empty chair across from him.
Empty because no one wanted to sit with the annoying little man, including Mandy. But dorky Ray knew everything that went on in town. With a sigh, Mandy wove her way through more than twenty people gathered in a space meant for twelve. Folks leaned on walls and perched on the wooden railing around the eatery.

She hung her purse on the back of the chair and sat. “Hi, Ray.”

Ray flushed from the base of his crewneck sweater to the top of his completely bald head. “Hi, Mandy.”

Ugh.

Dr. Chandler crossed the landing. He ordered a black coffee, turned around, and leaned against the counter. Lines around his eyes suggested he seriously needed the brew. Real estate agent Carolyn Fitzgerald looked like she’d rather be anywhere but the meeting. As usual, the older woman was decked out in a flashy suit, full makeup, and modern haircut. Her war paint, Mandy thought. Carolyn was no wimp. Despite her problems, she suited up and took on each day as it came.

Ray unwrapped a lollipop and pulled his reading glasses off the neck of his sweater before bringing the meeting to order with a rap of his knuckles on the table. “The first item on the agenda today is that we still don’t have a single candidate for someone to replace Nathan as mayor.” Ray lifted the glasses from his face and scanned the now-silent room.

Someone coughed. Shoes scraped on the wood floor. There was a pointed lack of eye contact. Mandy sipped her latte.

“Ian, how about you?” Ray suggested. “You’d make an excellent mayor.”

The doctor lowered his coffee from his mouth. “You mean in my spare time?”

A round of chuckles met his sarcasm.

“Regardless, the town needs leadership.” Ray turned both palms up in plea. “Surely one of our esteemed business leaders will
step up, unless you want some outsider to take office. Someone who wouldn’t understand what we need to do to stay afloat.”

“Face it, Ray. No one wants the job,” Carolyn said. “You could always run yourself.”

“I already run the chamber. There’s only so much one man can do.” Ray’s forefinger moved on his notes. “OK. We’ll shelve that discussion at present. Moving on to the new municipal building. The town council approved the plans. Construction should begin in the next month. Hopefully, we’ll have our regular meeting place back before next winter.”

“What about the diner? How long will it take for the town to take it over?” someone asked.

Good question. The boarded-up restaurant was a blight on the town’s image and echoed Mandy’s depression.

Carolyn raised her hand. “I can answer this, Ray. If things stay as is, the town will have to wait for taxes to go into arrears. They’ll file a tax lien. Eventually, if Nathan doesn’t come back, the property will go up for auction. It will take time.”

“Couldn’t someone run his business for him until he comes back?” Ray asked.

“Who cares?” Steve, the gift shop proprietor, raised a flannel-shirted arm. “He’s a murderer.”

“And probably dead,” added Ralph, the taxidermist, also dressed in the latest lumberjack attire.

Ray banged his mug on the table. Coffee sloshed over the rim. “We don’t know any of that is true.”

“Give it up, Ray. Nathan went nutso. No need to suck up to him anymore.” Steve laughed.

Ralph snickered. “The real reason Ray can’t run for mayor is because he’s not flexible enough to kiss his own ass.”

While hilarity ensued, Mandy pondered Ray’s concern. How close was he to Nathan? Ray’s business had picked up
considerably without the diner as competition. He should be glad the diner was closed.

Ray stood and pointed at Steve. “What happened to innocent until proven guilty? Doesn’t Nathan deserve our support?”

Steve got to his feet and towered over Ray. “He gave up the rights to our support when he killed that kid and our police chief. Hugh was a good man.”

“Innocent people don’t run away.” Ralph nodded. “Nathan’s business is the least of his worries. If he shows up in town, we’ll issue a bounty on his head.”

Steve huffed. “You won’t need to.”

No love lost there.

Ray knocked on the table. “Let’s get back to business and let the police handle the case.”

Steve sank back into his chair and crossed his arms over his chest. “What happens if somebody stumbles across Nathan’s decomposing body?”

Ray crunched his lollipop between his molars, no doubt yearning for the cigarettes he’d given up the prior year. “Then it becomes an estate issue. Let’s move on to the next item on our agenda.”

Mandy scanned the other faces. No one else seemed to be bothered by the thought of Nathan’s death. Was she reading motives into Ray’s behavior?

The next fifteen minutes were spent arguing about the spring beautification campaign. Business owners on Main Street squabbled for position. Carolyn looked like she wanted to stick a fork in her eye, and Mandy remembered why she let her mother be the inn’s representative at these meetings whenever possible.

With another impatient and annoying tap of his knuckles, Ray brought the meeting to a close. People started milling about. Mandy stood, bumping into Carolyn as the real estate agent hurried down the aisle.

“Oh, excuse me.” Mandy wiped a few drops of spilled coffee from the table. “Any idea how long it will take for the diner to go into arrears?”

“No.” Carolyn snapped. Her eyes sharpened. “Why do you care? Are you thinking of buying it?”

“No, but vacant buildings aren’t good for the town’s image.” Or her peace of mind.

“True.” Carolyn’s whole face sagged with a frown. “But who would buy it? This place isn’t exactly Manhattan.” She stared at her pumps and toyed with her necklace, sliding it back and forth on its chain.

Steve butted into the conversation. “Mandy’s right. A boarded-up restaurant on Main Street is an eyesore. It’s only three doors from my gift shop. Can’t the town declare eminent domain or something? We could bulldoze it and do something else with the space.”

“The situation is what it is, Steve. There’s nothing anyone can do to rush due process of law.” Sounding defeated, Carolyn waved off any more discussion. “I have to get back to work.”

“Me, too. Nice to see you,” Mandy said to Carolyn’s back. Steve rejoined the larger group. The real estate agent exited without her usual round of good-byes. Mandy looked around for Ray. He was arguing with Steve and Ralph.

Danny was ordering from the barista. His back was to her.

Mandy headed for the steps. She glanced back at the group. No one was looking at her. They were all still engaged.

At the bottom of the stairway, she turned down a hallway toward the restrooms. Without giving herself a chance to chicken out, she opened the door marked O
FFICE
. Light streamed through the tilted miniblinds. Ray’s office was clean and neat. A computer monitor occupied the corner of a utilitarian metal desk. The center of the desktop was clear, except for paperwork neatly piled
in the I
N
and O
UT
bins. Mandy skimmed through the papers. Invoices, inventory, employee time cards. Nothing unusual. She opened the desk drawers and perused the contents. Boring.

Mandy stooped in front of the credenza and skimmed through the hanging files. In the last drawer she found a folder full of newspaper articles about December’s crimes and the subsequent search for Nathan. Was Ray simply keeping up with news?

Something scuffed in the hallway.

CHAPTER NINETEEN

Boston, June 22, 1975

Nathan shivered in the early morning damp.

“You cannot tell your dad about this day, Nathan.” Uncle Aaron’s oars cut through a layer of swirling predawn fog and dipped into the glassy surface of the lake. The old wooden rowboat creaked as his uncle shifted his weight back and pulled on the long handles. Muscles rippled. The boat glided forward into the quiet morning. “He won’t understand.”

Uncle Aaron paused, forearms resting on his thighs, waiting for Nathan’s response. Water dripped from the blade of an oar into the smooth, dark water. Tiny waves rippled away from the hull. Nathan dipped the tips of his fingers into the silky liquid. The lake was deep here. If he slipped over the side, he could just sink into cool nothing.

What was death like? A painless fade of consciousness? Or could a person feel the soul being ripped from his body?

“Nathan? Swear.”

“OK.” He felt like he was cheating. The promise was too easy. Dad didn’t have the time or energy to talk anyway. His whole life was taking care of Mom, who didn’t do much except pace and twitch and ramble. Nathan wasn’t sure she even recognized him. He tried to picture her smiling but couldn’t. Overwhelming sadness rose, scratchy and salty in his throat. He reached for the small cooler Uncle Aaron had stashed between their seats and pulled out a Coke. The bubbles burned on their way down, but he welcomed the discomfort. At least it made him feel alive.

Uncle Nathan stopped rowing and rested the oars across the peeling paint of the seats. Water lapped against the side of the boat. He scanned the shoreline all around. They were in the dead center of the lake. Dawn edged over the horizon, and the eastern sky brightened to watercolor pink.

“But what are we doing out here?” Nathan watched his uncle’s sweating face. Uncle Aaron preferred the cold of winter to a Boston summer’s heat and humidity. He said his blood was thick from his Scottish highlands boyhood. Nathan’s head was full of his uncle’s stories: living in the shadow of mountains that held on to their white caps year-round, wind whipping across the high plateaus, sleeping in the cold loft of a tiny cottage, burning peat, whatever that was, in an iron stove for heat.

“We’re asking the gods to cure your ma.”

“Dad took me to church yesterday. The priest said a blessing, and we lit a candle for her.” He’d been praying as hard as he could, but it didn’t seem to be helping.

“Ah. That’s good,” Uncle Aaron said.

“Then why are we here?”

“Because you cannot have too many blessings.”

Uncle Aaron made a good point. Nathan wanted his mother to get better more than anything. He missed meatloaf and mashed potatoes. He missed the way his school uniform was always stiff and smooth, the way his mom fussed over his hair as he went out the door. His life was divided into two distinct chapters, before and after.