On Borrowed Time (8 page)

Lindsey gathered the teapot and mugs to return to their shelf in her office. Again, Robbie took the teapot out of her hands and fell into step beside her.

“Well, it appears I have no choice,” she said. She arranged the delicate pot and matching cups on the shelf. When she was satisfied, she turned to face him. “I think it's time I called my parents.”

L
indsey had not expected that statement to act like rocket fuel on Robbie, but the man fled the building so fast she was pretty sure he was shooting sparks out his behind. So the mention of parentals caused the Englishman to flee the scene as if it were a crime and he was holding a bloody dagger. Good to know.

She found her cell phone in her purse and closed her office door while she called her father's office. Both of her parents were professors at a small college in New Hampshire.

Big thinkers on the subjects of literature, they spent their days teaching their students how to do the same. They were devoted professors who had carved out a comfortable life together in the academic town they had lived in since her dad had gotten his first teaching job there. Lindsey's mother had joined him as a professor as soon as Lindsey and Jack were of school age. Lindsey had no doubt that they would teach right up until they drew their last breaths.

“How do, pumpkin?” John Norris answered the phone in his usual jovial way.

“Hi, Dad, what's the good word?” she asked. They started every conversation in the exact same manner, since one of her father's most favorite classes to teach was etymology, the study of words, specifically, their history and change in usage over time.

“I don't know that it's a good word,” he said. “But it's a doozy of a mystery. Are you ready?”

“As I'll ever be,” she said.

“Would you call that young rascal of yours a dog or a hound?” her father asked.

Lindsey considered before answering, “Well, in common vernacular, he would be a dog.”

“Ah, yes, but there is our mystery,” her father said. She could practically hear him rubbing his hands together. “According to the
OED
, the word
dog
has no reference prior to a specific breed reference in 1050, which was
dogca
. Then it appears to replace the already well-used
hund
, or
hound
as we know it. But there is no specific point of origin.”

“How long have you been chewing on this?” Lindsey asked.

“Like a dog with a bone on and off for years,” her father said. “But enough about me—how is my favorite daughter?”

“I'm your only daughter,” she said.

“That doesn't make it any less true,” he said.

Lindsey smiled. He sounded just like Jack.

“I was just wondering what day you and Mom think you might arrive,” she said. “I know we left it loose, since none of us knew, er, know what Jack is doing.”

“Mom and I were thinking we'd pop on down a few days before Christmas,” he said. “We'll have finished with finals by then and hopefully Jack will do the same and we'll get to spend a few days together before he has to dash off to who knows where next.”

“So you haven't heard from him?” Lindsey asked.

“No, not yet,” he said.

This was why Lindsey had called her father. When it came to the family, he was the less detail oriented of her two parents. Her mother would have asked straight out if Lindsey had heard from Jack, but her father would assume that if she had, she would mention it. Since he didn't ask, she was spared having to lie to him.

For a moment, she wondered if she should tell her father about the mess Jack had gotten himself into, but she couldn't help but remember Jack's warning, the fewer who knew about him the better. If a deranged husband was hunting for him, he would no doubt check and see if his parents had heard from him. Telling her parents what was happening could put them in danger as well as Jack.

She changed the subject by asking about one of their neighbors, and her dad got busy recounting the gossip from town. Lindsey used to get homesick when she heard about who had gotten married, who had kids and who had passed away. Growing up, she had never really thought she'd move away and stay away.

But now that she'd planted some roots in Briar Creek, she really couldn't imagine living anywhere else. She liked the quirky shore town. She also liked that she was a short train ride from Boston and New York. It really felt as if it was the best of all worlds.

“Drat, I have a faculty meeting to get to,” her father said. Lindsey could tell by his tone that he was already late and contemplating skipping it.

“I'll let you go then,” she said. She didn't want to be the reason he got into trouble. “Give Mom my love.”

“Will do,” he said. “Love you, peanut. See you soon.”

“Love you, too. Bye, Dad.”

Lindsey hung up the phone, feeling lousy for having pulled the old lie of omission trick on her dad. She hadn't had to do that in years, and she really didn't like it.

Of course, this time, just like when they were younger, it was to spare Jack. Once he had taken the family station wagon out for a joy ride, and when her father asked her if she had seen her brother, she'd said no. Not a total lie, as she was forced to point out later. She had heard Jack leaving in the station wagon but she hadn't seen him, thus not a lie. Her parents hadn't really seen it that way then and she doubted they would see it that way now.

But what choice did she have? She didn't want to put Jack or her parents in danger. She didn't know what was going on or whom she could trust. The man on the phone had sounded seriously scary. She knew that whatever she did, she had to be extremely careful.

When she did see Jack again, she thought she should demand payback for all of the times she had covered his butt with their parents. She was thinking a week's vacation on a tropical beach with a stack of books might be just the ticket. Of course, first she had to get Jack back, but that was just a detail. She fully intended to find out where her brother was and to get him home in time for the holidays. She refused to give in to her fear. Failure was not an option.

Lindsey spent the rest of the day trying to concentrate on work. There were orders to place and meetings to prepare for. The town was hoping to launch a new website that promoted tourism, and the mayor's right-hand man, Herb Gunderson, had been tasked with nagging all the department heads for their input in regards to the website. Because the library's website was so much more interactive than the sites for the other departments, much of the burden of usability was on Lindsey.

About an hour before closing, Lindsey got a case of the yawns that made her jaw pop. Suddenly there was nothing more appealing in the world than putting her head down on her desk and taking a power nap.

When her eyes started to blink shut, she knew resistance was futile. She got out of her seat and strode to the front door. A gust of cold winter air slapping her across the face ought to do the trick.

She stepped on the rubber mat that triggered the automatic doors. The day was gray again, and the air was brisk. It was getting dark really early now, and she could see that it would be fully dark well before they closed. She moved to the side of the doors and stared out at the naked trees in the park across the street.

The briny smell of the bay at low tide filled her nostrils. She inhaled deeply, hoping it would act like a spark plug on her weariness and ignite some wakefulness. She shivered. She rubbed her hands up and down her arms. She stared past the park at the pier. She was sure she could see Sully in his office all the way at the edge of the pier.

This made her pause. He had said he was going to keep looking for the yacht that had carried Jack away. The thought that he might get hurt in the process made Lindsey's heart hammer hard in her chest. She couldn't bear it if anything happened to him while he was looking into Jack's disappearance. The guilt would be a crushing weight from which she'd never recover. She had to stop him.

She turned around and headed back into the library. Now that she knew she was going to have to run an errand after work, she was fully awake and ready to face the argument that she knew was coming.

*   *   *

L
indsey hurried home to get Heathcliff before she headed to the pier. The dog needed a good walk, she reasoned, and besides, his canine charm might have more sway with Sully than she did.

“What, no tights-and-tutu-wearing thespian with you?” Sully asked when they appeared in his office.

Heathcliff didn't hear the censure in his voice and skidded across the tile floor to get to his friend. Smacking into Sully's shin, he stood on his hind legs and wrapped his doggy paws around Sully's knee. As expected, Sully made his “
aw
” face, and scooped Heathcliff up as if he were a toddler, giving his back a good scratch before setting him back down.

“I assume you're referring to Robbie?” she asked.

“Charlie told me he had tea in the library today,” Sully said with a shrug of nonchalance that was anything but. “I just assumed he'd still be shadowing you.”

“How did Charlie know that Robbie was there?” she asked.

“I believe he said that Nancy mentioned it in passing,” he said.

“Uh-huh,” Lindsey said. Robbie had been right. Small towns were definitely
small
. “We did have tea, but last I heard, he and Dylan were running lines for their next production. And I don't think they're wearing tutus.”

Sully blinked at her as if he knew he'd been out of line but was not about to take it back.

“So what brings you and the boy by?” he asked. He sounded as if he was trying for a more casual tone. “Has there been any news about the John Doe?”

“No.” Lindsey shook her head. “As far as I know, there's been no ID on the body.”

“What about Jack?” he asked. “Any word from him?”

“That's what I wanted to talk to you about,” she said. “I think it would be best if you don't look for the yacht he disappeared on.”

Sully studied her for a moment and then he frowned. “What aren't you telling me?”

Lindsey wondered if a lie of omission would work for her in this instance. Sully was not her distractible dad. Full disclosure might be the only way to get him to see reason.

“Nothing really,” she said. “I just think it's too dangerous, and I can't in good conscience have you getting involved in something that could be, well, deadly.”

Sully stared at her for a moment then he moved around her. Shutting off lights, checking the coffeepot, he was moving toward the door before Lindsey registered that they were in motion.

“I'm thinking we need to have a longer conversation,” he said. “But I have stew in the Crock-Pot that won't wait much longer.”

He was dismissing her in order to go eat his dinner. It was perfectly reasonable, and yet Lindsey could feel a tiny bubble of hurt float up inside her, which was ridiculous. It was late. The man needed his dinner. They could talk another time. Yeah, all very logical and she still felt a severe case of the pouts coming on.

“O
h, of course,” Lindsey said. She was pleased that she sounded so incredibly mature. “We won't keep you.”

“No, but you'll join me for dinner, right?” he asked. “Believe me, I made enough to feed twenty.”

“Oh, I don't want to impose—” Lindsey began but Sully interrupted her as he took her arm and led her out of the building.

“You're not,” he said. He glanced at her sideways before adding, “I even have those small sourdough loaves of bread from the bakery.”

“Oh, well, that changes everything. You know I can't turn down a bread bowl,” she said. It was ridiculous how relieved she felt that he wasn't sending her away.

“Yeah, I know,” he said. His voice was gruff with affection, and Lindsey wondered if maybe this wasn't the best idea.

She and Sully had been very careful around each other for the past few months as if neither of them wanted to lose the fragile friendship they had been able to rebuild.

Sully gave her little time to reconsider, however, as he locked the door and led the way up the pier to Main Street, where he parked his truck. Heathcliff jumped in without hesitation and Lindsey followed.

It was fully dark now and the streetlights had come on, illuminating patches of the street. Lindsey burrowed into her coat, nudging her nose under her scarf as she sat beside Sully. He didn't wear gloves and his coat was unbuttoned. She wondered how he could not be frozen, but then, working out on the water driving passengers to and from the islands had probably thickened up his blood.

He started up the truck and drove a half mile then he turned off Main Street to follow a narrow road that wound its way back out toward the water. This was an older neighborhood of small beach houses built in the fifties. They were the original vacation cabins that the wealthy residents of New Haven had used during the summer.

Sully's small three-bedroom house was halfway down the street. Weathered to a pearly shade of gray with a crisp white trim, it was boxy in shape but it sported floor-to-ceiling windows that offered a view of the bay, a thick stone fireplace, and was surrounded by hedges of summer roses on both sides, keeping it private from the neighbors. It had a small front yard enclosed by a white picket fence, with a side garden that was now dead cornstalks and pumpkin vines. Lindsey had always thought that Sully's house was just perfect. She was surprised to find how much she had missed it.

Sully parked in the drive and led the way to the house. Heathcliff followed with his nose to the ground. Sully unlocked the door and flicked on the lights. The tiled foyer led through the kitchen to the living room, which had two full-sized leather couches with the fireplace on one side, a big screen television on the wall beside it and windows that looked out over the water, completing the cozy room.

The rich hearty smell of a thick homemade stew cooking perfumed the air. Lindsey felt her stomach cramp and realized that she'd had nothing to eat since tea with Robbie.

Sully went over to the fireplace and switched on the gas, causing the fire to ignite in a bright burst of warm flames.

“Make yourselves at home,” he said. “I'll dish the food and be right back.”

Heathcliff took that to mean that Sully needed an assist and he followed him into the kitchen. Lindsey heard the low rumble of Sully talking to the dog and she smiled. When she and Sully had been dating, they had spent a lot of time at Sully's house, and Heathcliff had settled in like it was his second home.

She stood by the fire to warm up, but the lure of the view caused her to wander over to the window. She had to look past her own reflection on the glass, but when she leaned close, she could see out into the darkness and pick out some of the Thumb Islands by the pinpricks of light that sat just above the water. Only a few of the islands had electricity, and those usually had year-round tenants, like Sully's parents on Bell Island.

She thought the idea of living on an island year-round was romantic, but she didn't know if she could do it. Maybe if she had family or neighbors on the island with her, but by herself she was afraid she'd become a hermit who refused to leave her island and Sully would have to deliver all of her food and goods. She'd probably become feral and lose all of her social skills and start living off the land like a wild woman.

It had a certain allure, like not shaving her armpits or legs, but then it had a dark side as well—no toilet paper. Yeah, she was out.

Sully was back in a few moments with a loaded tray. Two plates heaped with stew inside a small hollowed loaf of round bread, a perfect defense against the December chill, and when paired with a bottle of Shiraz and two glasses, it almost felt like a date.

Lindsey looked at Sully. Did he look like a man who considered this a date? He was clean shaven, he smelled good, and she was pretty sure he had just combed his hair. His unruly head of reddish brown curls always looked wonderfully wind tossed after a day of working on his boats. Yes, he had definitely paused to comb it. Hmm.

“What?” he asked as he handed her a glass of wine.

“What what?” she returned. She had to keep herself from smacking her forehead. Man, she sounded dumb.

“You're staring at me,” he said.

“You combed your hair,” she said. She let out a pained sigh. Did she really just say that out loud? This was agony. She sounded dumber than dumb; she sounded like an idiot to the tenth power.

“Mom always taught me to clean up before dinner,” he said. His tone was easy and light. “Thanks for noticing.”

Lindsey felt her face get hot. This wasn't working. Being here with him in his house like they had so many times when they were a couple, it was blurring the lines, and she wasn't sure if she was Lindsey the friend or Lindsey the ex-girlfriend or Lindsey who wished they could get back together.

The thought made her toss back a gulp of Shiraz, which was not the mellowest of wines to chug. She sputtered a little, and when she glanced at Sully, she was almost certain she saw him trying not to laugh.

As was their old habit, they sat on the floor in front of the fire on big square cushions that gave them just the right elevation to eat at the large glass coffee table. Sully had even brought a bowl of stew for Heathcliff, which sat on the table until it was cool enough for him to eat.

“I have an ulterior motive for mellowing you with food,” Sully said.

“Oh?” Lindsey asked. She felt her pulse pound, but she strived to sound casual. “What's that?”

“It's bad news,” he said.

Lindsey felt her chest clutch. “How bad?”

“The scorched wreck that we hauled in last night is gone,” he said.

“What?” Lindsey asked. “When? How?”

“It had to be last night after we docked,” he said. “I called a Navy buddy with some experience in forensics, but when he came out this morning and we went to check out the boat, we found the tie had been cut clear through. Someone didn't want anyone looking at that boat. We searched for it but no luck. I don't know if they hauled it away or sank it, but it's gone. I'm sorry, Lindsey.”

He looked genuinely regretful and Lindsey knew he thought he'd let her down, which was ridiculous.

Lindsey shook her head. “It's not your fault. There are more players than we realized in this little drama. I'm just beginning to understand how much trouble Jack is in.”

Sully nodded. “Yeah, I got that feeling when the boat was gone. Now it's your turn. What were you not sharing with me back at the office? And more importantly, does the British bit player know what's going on?”

Lindsey dipped the top of her bread into the stew. It was savory and seasoned to perfection. She took her time chewing while she considered what to tell him. As if there was really any option. Briar Creek was too small a town to keep secrets, at least not for long, which reminded her that any day Chief Plewicki was going to find out about her brother.

“I received a phone call today from a man,” Lindsey said. She could tell by the way Sully had gone completely still that she had his full attention.

“Go on,” he said. He took a sip from his glass as if to brace himself.

Lindsey picked up her spoon and fiddled with her stew. “He didn't or wouldn't identify himself. He asked where my brother was, and when I said I didn't know, he sounded very irritated with me.”

“Do you think it was the jealous husband?” Sully asked.

“I don't know,” Lindsey said. “On the one hand, that makes the most sense, but then again, he didn't sound jealous. He sounded concerned right up until he told me he'd be in touch.”

“What?” Sully asked. “And you're just mentioning this now?”

“I'm not sure he meant it like it sounded,” she said. “Robbie heard him, too. He could verify that it wasn't like a threat.”

“Oh, the mincing mime was in on the call, was he?” Sully asked.

“He just happened to be there when the call came through,” she said. She took the opportunity to shove a spoonful of savory stew into her mouth. Delicious.

“Fine, moving on,” Sully said. “If it wasn't a threat, what did it sound like?”

As if he could stand it no longer, Heathcliff gave a whimper from his spot on the floor then he barked and rolled over as if he would expire if he didn't get to eat his stew right now.

“Oh, sorry, boy,” Sully said. He checked the temperature of Heathcliff's bowl. “The ice has melted. You're good.”

He put a placemat on the floor and put the bowl on top of it. Heathcliff leapt to his feet and slammed his muzzle into the bowl with absolutely no regard for manners of any kind. He wagged while he ate.

“Compliments to the chef,” Lindsey said as she pointed at his tail.

“The dog has good taste,” Sully said.

“Yes, he does, the stew is excellent,” Lindsey said. She took a sip of wine before she answered his question. “I think the man on the phone was trying to warn me.”

“About what?” Sully asked.

“I don't know,” she said. “Maybe the jealous husband or it could be something else entirely. That's why I want you to stop looking for any trace of the yacht. Whatever Jack is mixed up in, one man is already dead. I really don't want you to make yourself a target as well.”

“Given that I had no luck tracing the boat, I think I'm fine,” he said.

“Except for the fact that you know everyone in the area, and if you start asking questions, it will draw the bad guys' attention back to you and you could get hurt,” Lindsey said. “I really would feel much better if you didn't look around or ask questions or anything.”

“But what if someone saw something?” Sully said. “We might be able to find your brother.”

“I know,” Lindsey said. “But Jack was very clear when he said that the fewer people who knew about him, the better. As it is, too many of you know, and I really couldn't stand it if something happened to any of you.”

“Who exactly is too many of us?” Sully asked.

“You, Beth and Robbie.”

“How does he know everything that is going on?” he asked.

“After he heard the phone call, I had to tell him,” Lindsey said. “I couldn't risk him asking the wrong person and getting everyone gossiping.”

Sully grumbled something unintelligible and tucked into his stew. Lindsey did the same. Heathcliff obviously considered it a race and was the first one done, which he announced by standing on his hind legs and propping his front paws on the table as if looking for seconds.

“No,” Lindsey said. He wagged. She shook her head. He pushed off the table with a grunt.

“He's mad at you,” Sully said.

“He'll get over it when I take him O-U-T,” she said. Heathcliff's ears perked up at her words and Sully laughed.

“I think he can spell,” he said.

“He's too smart for his own good,” she said. “More accurately, he's too smart for my own good.”

They finished eating and Lindsey helped Sully with the dishes. She could tell he was thinking, mulling over what she had told him about the phone call. She refused to feel guilty for including Robbie in the loop. His input had been very helpful, and she'd been pretty rattled to get the call and was grateful for his calming presence.

A mournful cry sounded from the living room, and Sully and Lindsey exchanged amused looks.

“Nice to know some things don't change,” Sully said. “The boy still makes it clear when he needs to go out.”

“Yes, he does,” Lindsey said.

Together they shrugged on their coats, and Sully flipped on the outside spotlight that illuminated the small yard and the beach beyond. The minute Lindsey opened the door, Heathcliff shot out the door and rushed through the tall grass over the sandy hill to the water.

Sully and Lindsey followed at a slower pace, and when they crested the hill, it was to find Heathcliff racing at the water, barking at the waves and running when they chased him back up the beach.