Storm Surge (13 page)

The woman remained silent, saying neither yes nor no. Paige plunged ahead.

“Do you know any of the names of my mother’s friends? Her other friends?” Paige added to avoid any further insult.

Bea clenched her bony fingers together in her lap. “I really shouldn’t be talking to you.”

“Why?”

“It isn’t a wise thing to do.”

Frowning, Paige leaned forward. “Once again, why?”

The woman turned her head, studying Paige from the corner of her eye.

“Bea?”

“You have to go.”

“I don’t want to.”

“This is my home, and I have every right to demand you leave.” Bea’s voice resumed its tremulous quality. Paige stood.

“Just one,” she said. “Just one name of one friend, and then I’ll be on my way.” Watching the woman’s mouth work, Paige longed to yank the words out of it.

Bea spoke with obvious reluctance. “Andrews. Felicia Andrews. Or that was her name a long time ago. I’m sure she’s been married since then, but I can’t help you any further.”

Paige stepped closer to Bea, who flinched. Paige shook her head. “Bea. Mrs. Hunt. I apologize for upsetting you. I really would like to come back for tea if you’d consider asking me. I’m going to leave my number right here on your end table, and you can call me if you want, okay?” Pulling Dan Stauffer’s card out, she wrote her cell number under his name, with her own beside it. She’d saved his number to her phone, so didn’t need the card anymore, but if Bea might require a police officer’s number, Dan’s was a good one to have. “And thank you for the information. I’ll see if I can track down Felicia Andrews.”

Bea remained mute. Paige exited the house, bewildered and concerned, and locked the doorknob before pulling the door shut. She wavered a minute or two on the walkway, pretending to admire the flowers, but her thoughts were on Beatrice Hunt’s strange behavior. The woman had acted afraid—not of Paige herself, perhaps, but possibly of being asked questions. Did Bea think Paige would blame her for anything discovered based on her reports? Damn, the residents of this town could be a strange lot.

A trip to the library to check the high school yearbook for the year her mother had graduated garnered Paige more pertinent tidbits of data than she could have hoped for. She found her mother’s senior photo and shed a few tears over it, and nearby, the photo of Felicia Andrews. In a candid shot of students on Alcina High School’s grounds, she located a picture of the two friends again and a young man holding Felicia’s hand, identified as Billy Woodward. In a town like this, Paige suspected people often married their high school sweethearts, so she searched the files in the computer for the local paper, looking for older wedding announcements. Sure enough, Felicia Andrews and William Woodward held their nuptials right here in Alcina Cove. Whether they remained married to this day, Paige couldn’t ascertain, but she had a place to start.

Woodward’s Garage lay right outside town. The owner was a William Woodward, Sr. Paige thought it more likely this William would be Felicia’s husband rather than a father-in-law, who should have retired long ago. Pulling into the lot, she passed two gas pumps, numerous cars jammed into parking spaces along the blacktop, and an open garage where a sedan hovered in the air on a lift. She parked the car and got out. She walked into the garage and waited while a man finished his task in a wheel well. Not William, Sr., surely. The fellow who turned and spotted her was about eighteen.

“May I help you?”

“Is Mr. Woodward about?”

The young man wiped his hands on a rag from his pocket as he came toward her. “My name is Woodward. People around here don’t call me ‘mister,’ though. Chance you mean my dad?”

He stood a moment, arching his spine backward as if it ached. Stuffing the oily rag back into his pocket, he faced her.

“Probably,” she said. “Is he William Woodward, married to Felicia?”

“Was. They split about five years back. Who are you?”

“My name’s Paige Waters. My mother and your mother were friends back in high school, and probably after, I would think. I’ve come back for…for a visit, and I thought I’d look her up. My mother passed away, and I wanted to ask your mom a few things.”

He studied her with a critical, narrowed eye. “All right.”

“All right?”

“She’s not far. I’ll give you her number and address. Won’t do you no good today, though. Not until next week. She went away visiting for the holiday.”

Paige tamped down her frustration and thanked him, following him into the shop where he wrote the information on a blank receipt. Noticing some photos tacked to a corkboard, Paige pointed in that direction.

He spoke before she did. “The bubbler? Help yourself.”

Taking him to mean the water fountain directly beneath, Paige grabbed a cup and filled it halfway, using her time drinking to study the pictures on the wall. She glanced back at him before jerking her chin toward a picture of a woman who resembled the high school photos. “Is this your mom?”

He came up beside her. “Yuh. That’s her there.” He pointed a stained finger. “And there. You never met her, then?”

Paige shook her head. “Not that I can remember.”

“She’s wicked funny, my mom. I think you’ll like her.”

He handed her the paper with his mother’s contact information. At his words, Paige experienced a rush of affection for the young man and his “wicked funny” mother, as well as a certain amount of longing for a relationship she no longer possessed. She threw the cone-shaped paper cup into the trash pail and turned to shake his hand.

He yanked his hand away from hers with a laugh. “Don’t think you want to be doing that. You’ll be marking everything you touch for the rest of the day.”

She conceded his point and walked back outside. He followed to stand next to her.

“My mom, she’s caretaker for Alcina Nature Center. The naturalist, I guess you’d call her. That got built about twelve years back, I think. She lives there now in the little stone house. You’ve been there, to the nature center?”

“No,” said Paige quietly. “I’ve been away a while. No nature center existed when I left.”

“Some university professor uncovered a circle of standing stones, like they got in England, you know? Not as old or as big, I hear. Somebody’s idea of a joke, maybe, way back in the sixteen-hundreds. But that’s where Alcina Cove got its name originally, from those stones. Some legend or something. Anyway, the center got built up around them.”

Paige arched her brows at him. “You’re a font of information, aren’t you? Thank you.”

He waved away her gratitude. “You ought to check it out, even before Mom comes home. Nice day for exploring. Just stay on this road.”

She thanked him again for his help and got back in her car. She found the idea of adventure solely for enjoyment very tempting. And like he’d said, it was a nice day for that type of excursion. By the time Paige left the parking lot, she’d made her decision and turned right rather than returning to town.

The landscape to either side quickly turned wild, full of windblown pines, rocks, and scrub trees. Paige kept an eye on her rearview to make sure no one followed. The precaution struck her as surreal, like something from a movie, but she was determined not to be caught unaware again.

Within a mile of the change in scenery, a wooden sign in burgundy with gold lettering announced the entrance to Alcina Cove Nature Preserve. She turned in and drove along the graveled road until she reached a parking lot with a dozen cars. She pulled her car into a space and got out. She opened the trunk and rummaged around. Locating her baseball bat, she yanked it out and hefted it in her hand. A group of women in matching shirts was exiting a nearby mini-van. She tossed the bat back in and walked in their direction. Safety in numbers and all that.

At the far side of the lot, a broad sign beneath a narrow roof cover showed a map of different trails. The women headed in that direction, Paige close enough behind to read the inscription across their shirts:
Lazy Day Ladies – Book Club and Hiking Group
. Based on the name, she immediately wanted to become one.

Hearing her footsteps on the gravel, the two women walking at the rear turned and smiled. “Beautiful day,” said one.

“Have you been here before?” Paige asked.

“Nope,” said the other, “first time.”

“Me too.”

“Feel free to tag along, then. And ignore Sylvie,” the woman said loudly enough for another up ahead to turn and flash the finger. “She’s got a mouth like a trucker.”

To one side of the map was a brief history of the finding of the stones, the development of the park, and a bit about the mythology of Alcina, a sea nymph who acquired mortals as lovers and afterward changed them into rocks and trees. The women took turns reading portions of the history aloud, making raunchy jokes about taking stones as lovers. Afterward, they all headed down the indicated trail.

Breathing pine resin and salt air, Paige followed them up the brief ascent to a place where the woods gave way to a rocky crest. She stopped, open-mouthed. Obviously, much time had been spent clearing the area, which, according to the signage, was deeply overgrown. The once-tumbled circle of standing stones had been righted and stood tall against the evergreen backdrop beyond, looking both prehistoric and breathtakingly lovely. Far smaller than the grandeur of Stonehenge, the gray, striated stones made an impressive circle, like crooked teeth in a giant’s open mouth. Paige estimated most stood about fifteen feet tall.

“Amazing,” announced one of the group. Another released a low whistle of appreciation. Then, as one accord, they all marched forward in hushed reverence. Paige followed, overwhelmed. She’d never seen anything like this in person.

Inside the circle, they walked from stone to stone in clockwise progression. Paige placed her hand against the surface nearest. A sharp, sudden chill coursed along her body, and the flesh tightened between her shoulder blades. She noticed several other women had similar, shivering reactions. They all laughed in an attempt to dismiss the sensation. Except Paige. Beyond the sunlight shining down into the ring’s heart, she spotted movement in the shadow of the stones.

Several seconds passed. Her breath whistled out. It was only a raven alighting on the ground. She observed its bobbing momentum across the grass to be certain before continuing on her way.

“You okay?” asked one of the Ladies.

Paige nodded. “This is quite the experience.”

“I’ve heard of sounds coming from this ring at night, almost like singing. Don’t think I’d like to come back at night.”

Paige smiled in agreement, although she couldn’t help thinking that if people heard singing in the stones at night, it probably was a human group of singers, not something fantastical.

Another shadow passed across the ground inside the circle. Paige looked up to find a second raven floating overhead with wings spread to land on the grass beside the other. Breaking into abrupt chatter, the Ladies moved on toward the path at the other side, a trail leading, so the sign said, to a small pond farther in the woods. Before Paige could reach the worn path at the edge of the ring, a dark silhouette undulated across the stones. Paige shot a quick look toward the sky, seeing no bird. The shape was that of a man, anyway, tall and thin. Spinning, Paige searched the circle, looking for a point of origin. She found none.

“Hello?”

The Lazy Day Ladies had gone on without her, joyfully oblivious. When the shadow appeared again to her left, Paige’s heart exploded. Adrenaline forced her legs into action, jerking her into a ground-eating race away from the stone circle. Blood pounding in her ears drowned out the distant, laughing voices of the Ladies as Paige ran along the path toward the parking lot, refusing to look back, filled with terror that the shadow would come after her. This wasn’t anything human, not the sinister thief of bookmarks, but something in Liam’s jurisdiction—a specter, a ghost, a thing in which she didn’t believe.

She skidded in the gravel beside her car and went down onto one knee. Scrabbling upright, jabbing the lock release on her key fob, Paige managed to yank open the door and throw herself inside. She slammed the button to lock all the doors and shoved the key into the ignition. Stone spurted from beneath her tires as she wheeled the vehicle around in reverse. Jerking the gear into drive, she sped forward with a last, fearful look in the rearview mirror. Nothing. Thank God, nothing.

She returned her attention to the road ahead and slammed on the brakes.

A hollow, breathless cry tore from her throat. Three hikers were crossing the road in front of her car. Although affronted by her careless driving, they waved, possibly in appreciation of the fact she hadn’t run them down. Something about the incident struck her as both comical and so very mundane in terms of a world where ghosts did not exist, she found herself succumbing to a nervous laugh in the midst of her apology. Clamping her lips tight against hysteria, she waved back at the three men and continued driving. Having been negligent before, Paige checked the backseat in the rearview mirror when she reached the main road. Her eyes were underscored by the dark half-moons of shock in a face as white as paper.

Remembering Liam’s number on her arm, half hidden beneath the lightweight, three-quarter length sleeve, Paige pulled out her cell phone and dialed. After several rings, his voice mail came on.

“Liam,” she said, “nasty-tasting or not, I could really use one of those beers right now.”

Liam pulled the door shut and checked the lock. He held a twelve-inch square wooden box under his arm, a dripping bottle of beer in his hand. He’d gone out and bought a six pack of something he thought Paige might find more appealing, but he wasn’t having one himself. Now was not the time.

Crossing between their two houses—if the cottage could technically be called a house—Liam thought about what Paige had told him on the phone. All of it. He’d talked to Dan Stauffer about part of the conversation afterward. He didn’t like where the investigation was heading. Not the course it appeared to be taking and not what he feared might be its ultimate outcome.