Firework Fiasco Page 13

  “Dream?” Mom asked as she turned toward me and angled her head slightly to the side.

  “It’s a long story,” I said, and I realized my fatigue was evident in my voice. I leaned back, closed my eyes, and ran my fingers through Sunny’s long black fur as the waves crashing in the distance soothed me.

  “I’d like to help. Especially if you feel this is more than a simple dream. Do you think it’s a portent?”

  I opened my eyes and momentarily considered my mother. She was one of the few people who knew about my power to both see ghosts and occasionally see glimpses of the future in dream form. She was one of the few people in my life who knew everything about me, the normal and the strange, and never judges. If there was anyone I could always talk to, it was her. “No,” I answered, “not a portent exactly. I think I’m being drawn into something that took place in the past.” I adjusted my position on the chase so I was sitting up straight rather than leaning back, as I had been. “The dream always starts off with me walking up a long, narrow trail that leads from a parking field of some sort, then climbs up to a bluff overlooking the sea. It’s foggy and visibility is limited. Basically, during the walk all I can see is what’s directly in front of my feet as I travel. It occurs to me as I make the journey that something’s very wrong, and that I should turn back. Yet, despite my own thoughts about doing just that, I continue to walk. It’s almost as if I’m being pulled along against my will.”

  “It sounds frightening.”

  “Not so much frightening as heavy. I feel as if I’m carrying a great weight, and the farther down the path I go, the more burdened I become. As I continue, I’m aware of a tightness in my chest. My breath comes in gasps and there’s a feeling of fear blanketed by a sort of acceptance. When I get to the top of the bluff, the fog clears. I pause to look around. I find not only a gorgeous view but an abandoned gravesite marked only by a handmade wooden cross. The fear I’ve been experiencing on the hike up is replaced with a deep sorrow that cuts my soul.”

  “And the gravesite? Do you have a sense of who’s buried there?”

  I shook my head. “I don’t know for certain, but recently, I’ve been picking up the name Naomi. I did some research and discovered a Naomi Collins disappeared Cutter’s Cove sixteen years ago.”

  “You think the gravesite in your dreams belongs to Naomi Collins?” Mom asked.

  I lifted one shoulder. “Maybe. I don’t have a sense yet that Naomi is dead necessarily, but I do know she grew up in a very unhappy home. I spoke to Woody,” I said, referring to my friend, Officer Woody Baker. “Officially, it’s assumed Naomi ran away. And maybe she did. Based on what I’ve been able to find out, she certainly had reason to. But the more I look into things, the stronger my intuition is that it’s Naomi’s grave I’m dreaming about.”

  “Talk to Woody again,” Mom suggested. “He can look in the area you sense and find out who, if anyone, is buried there.”

  “I’d do that, but I don’t know where the grave is. I see it in my dream, but though I’ve tried, I can’t figure out the exact location of the bluff in my dream. Woody’s already shared with me everything he knows about Naomi, which isn’t much.”

  “Maybe if you have the dream often enough, eventually you’ll develop a sense of where the bluff is,” Mom offered.

  I stretched my long legs out in front of me. “That’s what I’m hoping, although I hope it’s soon. I’m exhausted. I’m ready for the dreams to stop messing with my sleep.” If I was honest, I’d gotten very little sleep since I came back to Cutter’s Cove three weeks ago to track down the killer of an old friend.

  Mom stood up. “I’ll make us some breakfast and you can fill me in on what you know to this point. It’s Monday. Do you think Trevor will be by?” Mom was particularly fond of one of my two best friends, Trevor Johnson. “He mentioned coming for breakfast on his day off.”

  “I’ll text him to confirm, but if I know Trev—and I do!—he won’t pass up the opportunity for some of your cooking.”

  Mom smiled. “I enjoy cooking for that boy. He’s always so appreciative.”

  Not really a boy anymore, I thought to myself, but didn’t say as much. “We all enjoy your cooking. In fact, I think it’s one of the reasons Mac’s arranging to come back to town so quickly. She doesn’t want to miss out on any of the delicious meals she knows you’ll be cooking while we’re here.”

  “Do you know when she plans to arrive?” Mom asked about my other best friend, Mackenzie Reynolds, who currently lived in California.

  “Last I heard, she’s flying in on Wednesday, but I’ll check to make sure her plans haven’t changed.”

  After Mom went inside, I returned my attention to the sea. The sky grew bright as the sun began to poke its head over the horizon. We’d had rain overnight, and the lingering clouds were brilliant with shades of red, orange, pink, and purple. God, how I’d missed this place. Yes, I’d been busy with my life in New York and hadn’t dwelled on what I’d left behind, but the longer I was here, where I’d been the happiest, I wondered if I could bear to leave. Mom owned the house, and I more than enough money that I didn’t need to work. From that standpoint, staying in Cutter’s Cove wouldn’t be a problem. But if I decided to stay there were other things to consider. I had a job I enjoyed and a boyfriend I was fond of but probably wouldn’t miss. Mom had her own life in New York, and I doubted she’d want to stay here full time, but she’d be welcome to visit as often as she liked.

  As each day passed, I wondered more and more whether my life was here in Cutter’s Cove with my dogs and my cat, Shadow, and Trevor. California was a short flight away, so Mac would be able to visit often. I didn’t know whether Alyson Prescott, the part of me who’d stayed behind in this house when I left Cutter’s Cove and was on the outside now that I’d returned for a short visit would somehow magically make her way back inside if I recommitted my life here. When I’d first arrived and found my teenage self running around the house, as if she were a real person, I was less than thrilled, but now that I’d gotten used to her, I think if we eventually reconnected, I’d miss her. I hadn’t mentioned the idea of staying to anyone yet. I wanted to come to a firm decision before I did.

  “We should take a photo of the sky and the sea,” Alyson said, and there she was, as if thinking about her had made her appear, and hopped up on the railing that separated the deck from the sharp drop to the sea below. “It’s exceptional this morning. I bet Mom will want to paint it.”

  “It is an exceptional sunrise.” I smiled at the apparition who was in a lot of ways like me yet in many others very different. “Where did you come from? I haven’t seen you in days.”

  Alyson frowned. “Really? It doesn’t feel as if I’ve been away. I think maybe we’re beginning to merge for short periods of time.”

  “Merge?”

  “You said you hadn’t seen me, but I’ve known what you saw, felt, even thought, so I must have been with you somehow.”

  “You can do that? Pop in and out?”

  “I guess. I’m not certain, but I know things that I only could if I’d been with you. Yesterday we had lunch with Trevor. He had a burger and we had a seafood salad. A woman Trev knows came over to our table and sat in his lap. He was polite but pushed her off, and the whole time we were thinking how satisfying it would be to pull her fake platinum hair out by the roots.”

  Now it was my turn to frown. “You’re right. I think maybe I need to talk to Chan again.” Chan, the magic shop owner, seemed to know what was going on between Alyson and me a lot better than I did. “I thought at some point we’d just get slapped back together. I imagined it as a single move, not a gradual assimilation.”

  “You know we can’t merge for good unless you decide to stay,” Alyson pointed out.

  I tucked my bottom lip into my mouth and nibbled on a corner. “Chan did say that.”

  “And I know you’ve been considering it,” Alyson added.

  “I have,” I admitted.

 
“Not surprising. We love it here. Even though you only lived here for two years, in your heart, Cutter’s Cove is home.”

  I acknowledged the truth in that. “It is home and I do love it, but I have a job and a boyfriend to consider.”

  “A job you’ve tired of and a boyfriend you know you won’t miss if you never see him again. A boyfriend you were thinking of breaking up with anyway.”

  Alyson really could read my mind. It was a little disconcerting, even if she was part of me. “Can we change the subject?”

  “Sure.” Alyson waved her hand in a panoramic gesture. “Don’t forget to take the photo for Mom.’

  “Hang on a sec.” I got up and jogged into the house, where I’d left my Nikon. I could have taken the photo with my phone, but this sunrise deserved special treatment. I took dozens of photos, changing lenses, filters, and perspectives several times. Mom would have a lot of good options to choose from. It was too bad she’d gone in to get dressed before the big show had begun.

  I think one of the reason I’d gone into graphic design was because of my love of working with shapes, colors, angles, and light. Mom was an artist both as a hobby and a part-time profession, so I supposed I’d inherited my artistic instincts from her. She was a genius with a paintbrush, but I’d found the medium I enjoyed the most was photography. Catching the perfect image at just the right time and in the right light truly was an art form not everyone understand.

  In addition to taking photographs, I enjoyed creating images, layering colors and shapes until I had an image almost as lifelike as an actual photograph. I used those images to enhance the ads I created, which had made my skill as a graphic artist a widely sought-after commodity. I supposed if I did move to Cutter’s Cove permanently, I could convert Mom’s art studio in the attic into a photography studio in which I could create and sell my photographs and graphic images on the internet.

  “Do you think the sky looks like this from the other side?” Alyson asked as she leaned her head against her chin while enjoying the colorful show taking place over the sea.

  “You mean if you were in a plane looking down on the clouds from above?”

  “I guess.”

  “I’ve been in a plane during cloudy sunsets. I can’t say I’ve ever experienced a sunrise blanketed by clouds. The sunsets I’ve seen from the air were colorful, although nothing like this. I guess we’d have to ask a pilot who flies a lot. It’s an interesting question.”

  Alyson floated over to the chair Mom had vacated and sat down. “I keep thinking about the girl in your dream. I feel as if we should be able to connect with her if she’s dead.”

  “Maybe if we find the grave we’ll be able to connect.”

  “So, we are going to look for it?” Alyson asked.

  Coming to a decision, I nodded. “We’re absolutely going to look for it.”

  By the time I went upstairs, showered, and dressed, Trevor had arrived. The pizza parlor was closed on Mondays, so I assumed he planned to spend the day with us, as he had every Monday since I’d been here. He’d seemed happy to go along with whatever I’d wanted to do, so I hoped he’d be willing to help me research and attempt to locate the gravesite I’d been dreaming of.

  “Was an effort made to find Naomi when she first disappeared?” Mom asked as she set the food on the table and we dug in.

  I took a sip of my juice before answering. “I asked Woody to pull the original police file. It was one of Naomi’s teachers, not her father, who reported her missing. The teacher, Elena Goldwin, told Darwin Young, the officer who was in charge then who’s since retired, that Naomi had missed a whole week of school, which was highly unusual for her. When Ms. Goldwin called the father to see why she was out, he said Naomi was visiting an aunt who’d recently had a baby and needed her help. Ms. Goldwin made a comment about Naomi doing her schoolwork from the aunt’s house so she wouldn’t get behind, and the father more or less told her to mind her own business and hung up. That was when she called the police and spoke to Officer Young.”

  “Sounds fishy,” Trevor commented as he helped himself to a second serving of pancakes and bacon.

  “I agree,” Mom said, topping off their coffees. “Did Officer Young follow up?”

  “According to Woody, Office Young went to speak to Naomi’s father. It was at that point that he admitted they had argued when he’d come home drunk the weekend before and she’d taken off. He was sure she’d be back when she cooled off a bit, so he hadn’t reported her missing. He also admitted Naomi didn’t have an aunt, pregnant or otherwise.”

  “So her jerk of a father killed Naomi and dumped the body,” Trevor said.

  “Officer Young thought so,” I responded, “but he couldn’t prove it. Naomi’s body was never found and a thorough search of the house, the property, and outbuildings surrounding the house, didn’t turn up blood or any other physical evidence. Naomi’s father insisted he hadn’t laid a hand on his daughter, and Officer Young had no way to prove he had.”

  “Were other suspects considered?” Mom asked.

  I nodded. “A few. In my opinion, and in Woody’s, the case was dropped much too quickly because Young was so sure the father was guilty. I’m not saying that if Naomi is dead her father didn’t do it; I’m just saying there wasn’t a lot of effort put into finding alternatives.”

  Trevor refilled his glass of milk and took a sip. “Okay, so Officer Young didn’t look at a lot of other suspects, but he did look at a few. Who?”

  “Three other people were interviewed. The first was a boy she went out with earlier in the week. Her father didn’t allow her to date, but he’d gone on an overnight fishing charter up north, and Naomi used his absence as an opportunity to go out and have some fun. The boy’s name was Greg Dalton. He was a high school jock who could have dated pretty much anyone he wanted. Given the huge gap in social ranking between Dalton and Naomi, it was widely assumed by the other students Officer Young spoke to that he’d only asked her out as some sort of a joke or dare. Officer Young was never able to confirm it, but he did learn from one of Dalton’s ex-girlfriends that anyone who went out with the star receiver on the football team had better be prepared to put out. The consensus was that if Naomi refused to sleep with him, he wouldn’t have taken it well.”

  Trevor frowned. “So Dalton might have killed her for not sleeping with him?”

  “He might not have been willing to take no for an answer and forced himself on her, killing her accidentally during the course of the rape. Office Young was never able to prove it, and Dalton never admitted to any wrongdoing, so the idea never went anywhere.”

  Mom forked a strawberry. “That poor girl. It sounds like she lived a dark, painful life. If she’s alive, if she did simply run away, I hope she found happiness.”

  I hoped that as well, but somehow, I didn’t think this story was going to have a happy ending.

  “Who else did Officer Young look at?” Trevor asked.

  “Two other men in the community. One was Frank Joplin, a homeless man who hung out by the wharf. The weekend before Naomi first missed school, she was seen talking to him near Hammerhead Beach. Connie Arnold, a classmate of Naomi and a very good friend of Greg, was the person who reported witnessing the conversation. Officer Young suspected the girl was just trying to give him another suspect to help Greg out, but he tracked down Oswald and spoke to him anyway.”

  “And…?” Mom asked.

  “He told Officer Young he didn’t remember speaking to the girl, but he noted that Oswald was wasted most of the time and didn’t seem to remember much of anything. It was Officer Young’s conclusion that Oswald was probably not responsible for any wrongdoing in connection to Naomi’s disappearance, but he was never able to confirm he wasn’t involved either because he couldn’t provide an alibi.”

  “And the other man?” Mom asked. She was literally sitting on the edge of her chair.

  I took a sip of water and continued. “The second local man to be interviewed was Jeffrey Kline, a mu
sic teacher for the middle school who also did private lessons. It seems that Kline and Naomi struck up a friendship while she was in the school. She desperately wanted to study music, but her dad wouldn’t allow it, so, based on what Kline told Young, he would sometimes give her a piano lesson either before or after school. After she moved on to high school, Naomi would go to his home from time to time when she could sneak away. Kline assured Officer Young that nothing inappropriate went on, but a few of Naomi’s peers stated there was a rumor that he was actually trading his services as a teacher for sexual favors. Officer Young wasn’t able to prove it one way or another, and Kline left Cutter’s Cove shortly after Naomi disappeared.”

  “Do we know where he is now?” Trevor asked.

  “He lives on the peninsula about four hours north of here.” Once I’d finished disseminating the information I’d gathered, we fell into an introspective silence. Whether Naomi was murdered or simply ran away, it was hard to deal with the fact that this poor girl had suffered so much during the sixteen years she’d lived in town. Woody hadn’t been a cop when all this went down, so all he really had were the notes Darwin Young left behind. Based on what we knew, it didn’t sound like the girl had a single happy day in her seemingly short life.

  “What happened to the father?” Trevor asked. “Does he still live here?”

  I nodded. “He does, in the same house he lived in with Naomi. He still fishes for a living and spends most of his free time in one of the local bars.”

  “Seems if he were guilty he would have left the area,” Mom suggested.

  I tilted my head just a bit. “Perhaps. We don’t know for certain that Naomi is dead, and even if she is, we don’t know that her father was responsible. It would seem however that if he were guilty of a brutal crime, he would want to move on, but a lot of killers stay put in the same place where the murders they carried out were committed.”

  The room fell into a momentary silence as we tried to deal with a possible killer still living in the community.