Secrets By The Sea Page 2

  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 we 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 grave 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 and has 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, Officer 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 the 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 a rape. Officer Young was never able to prove it, and Dalton never admitted to any wrongdoing, so the idea never went anywhere.”

  Mom forked up 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 Joplin and spoke to him anyway.”

  “And…?” Mom asked.

  “He told Officer Young he didn’t remember speaking to the girl, but he noted that Joplin was wasted most of the time and didn’t seem to remember much of anything. It was Officer Young’s conclusion that Joplin was probably not responsible for any wrongdoing in connection with 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 next local man to be interviewed was Jeffrey Kline, a music teacher for the middle school who also gave private lessons. It seems 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 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.

  “What about the mother?” Mom asked. “You said she was in a mental health facility when Naomi went missing. Is she still alive?”

  “Yes. After a couple of years of therapy and a steady drug regimen, she seemed to be much better. Collins divorced her after Naomi disappeared, and she’s since remarried. She lives about an hour south of Cutter’s Cove. She, along with a few people who went to school with Naomi and still live in town, are on my list of people to interview. I planned to start with what I have today.”

  “I’m totally in,” Trevor said.

  Tucker let out a single sharp bark and Sunny ran around the room, chasing Shadow. It seemed I had the beginning of my old sleuthing team to help me with what I was sure was going to be a complex mystery to unravel. Now all we needed was Mac and her tech know-how and we’d hopefully have everything we needed to accomplish what Officer Young had been unable to do years ago.

  Chapter 2

  When Bodine Collins had divorced his wife, Amelia, she had kept the Collins name, though she changed it when she married Timothy Landry. Amelia Landry lived with her second husband and his two children from a previous marriage in a small seaside community about forty-five miles
south of Cutter’s Cove. When I called and asked if I could speak to her, she’d been hesitant. I supposed I didn’t blame her for wanting to bury that part of her life in the past. But I’d utilized my best persuasive skills, and eventually, she’d agreed to meet with me and me alone.

  After Mom had seen the photos I’d taken of that morning’s sunrise, she was itching to get the colors on canvas, so after a bit of discussion, she decided she was staying home to paint and would keep an eye on the dogs. There were three people Trevor knew at least casually who were on my list of Naomi’s classmates and were still in town, so he offered to talk to them while I made the trip south. Alyson wanted to go with me, but I thought it might be best if she stayed at the house with Mom. Trevor and I planned to meet back at the house when we were finished with our tasks.

  The drive from Cutter’s Cove to the unincorporated town where Amelia Landry lived was one of the most beautiful in the area. The coastline south of Cutter’s Cove was mainly uninhabited so the road, which hugged the sandy shoreline, was undisturbed with the exception of a few random buildings along the way. The day had begun with clouds from the overnight rain, but once the sun had risen high in the air, the last of the haze had burned off and the sky was brilliant, with sunshine that bore down and glistened on the aqua water fringed with white lapping gently on the coarse sand.

  One of my very favorite trinket shops was along this stretch of coast. Years ago, I’d spent many an hour looking over handmade pottery, driftwood furniture, and locally painted seascapes. I was tempted to stop now to see if it was still there, but I didn’t want to be late for my meeting with Naomi’s mother, so I drove on past, promising myself to stop on my way back to Cutter’s Cove if I had the time. It occurred to me, as I slowed to navigate a winding stretch of road, that I might be able to frame my better photos and sell them on consignment in the shops that littered the coast from California to Washington.

  As I pulled onto the narrow street Mrs. Landry had directed me to, I found a quaint lane lined with large trees that provided shade in the summer. Each tree seemed to belong to a well-maintained if small house, which was either painted white with sky-blue trim or sky-blue with white trim. I found the uniformity somewhat tiresome, but all the homes had custom landscaping that provided enough diversity that the area as a whole was actually quite charming. I slowed as I searched for the house with the number 632 over the garage. Once I found it, I parked my Mercedes on the street, locked the door, and started up the winding path through a bed of yellow and red roses toward the front door. I rang the bell and waited.

  “Ms. Parker?” the thin woman who answered the door asked.

  “Yes, I’m Amanda Parker. And you’re Mrs. Landry?”

  The woman nodded before opening the screen door and allowing me in. “I only have a few minutes,” she warned.

  “I know. You said as much when we spoke earlier. I’ll be quick, I promise.”

  She led me down a wide hallway to a living area at the back of the house. She indicated I should have a seat on the navy-blue sofa. I sat down, but not before noticing the photographs displayed on a long shelf that had been tacked up over the large window that looked out toward the yard in the back. “Is this your family?” I asked.

  Amelia nodded. “That’s my Timothy with his son Thomas and his daughter Samantha.”

  “Do you have any photos of Naomi?” I wondered.

  “No. The photos we had are still in the possession of Naomi’s father. Now, how can I help you?”

  “As I told you on the phone, I’m looking into Naomi’s disappearance. I understand you were dealing with issues of your own and not living in the family home when Naomi went missing, but I hoped you might have some insights that might help me to find the answers I’m seeking.”

  Mrs. Landry narrowed her gaze and studied me for a minute, then asked why I was interested after all this time. “You aren’t a reporter or one of those TV folks who look at cold cases?”

  “No,” I assured her. I’d given some thought to how to answer this question, which I was sure would come up, and had decided to tell the truth. Or at least a partial truth. “I’ve been having a recurring dream. I don’t know for certain yet, but my instinct is that it’s about Naomi. I know that sounds odd, and I understand if you think my interest is unwarranted, but I feel compelled to try to find out what happened to your daughter.”

  “You think she’s dead.”

  I paused before I answered. “I’m not sure. I think it’s a possibility based on what I know.”

  Mrs. Landry looked down at her hands. I could see this conversation was hard on her, and I was sorry about that. The last thing I wanted to do was to cause her more grief, but perhaps if I could answer my questions, I might be able to help her find the closure she most likely wouldn’t any other way. After a moment, she began to speak. “The officer who investigated Naomi’s disappearance believed Bodine killed her. He came to speak to me at the facility where I was staying and basically said as much. I tried to explain to him that while he was a cruel man who drank too much, slept around, and ruled the house with an iron fist, he couldn’t and wouldn’t kill Naomi.”

  I folded my hands in my lap. “How can you be so sure?”

  She looked up at me. “Bodine loved Naomi. He didn’t love me, but he did love her. Sure, he was strict with her, and he didn’t know how to show affection or compassion, but he loved his daughter. We both did. She was the bond that kept us together all those years.”

  “I understand Naomi and her father argued the weekend before she went missing.”

  Mrs. Landry nodded. “Naomi was a passive child. She didn’t like conflict and mostly just went along. She’d learned how to deal with her father. She knew what set him off and went out of her way to avoid those things, and she did what she was told so he never had reason to find fault with her. But, like me, I think when her father came home drunk that last time, she lost it a little. I think she took off to make a life for herself elsewhere.”

  “What do you mean, like you?” I wondered.

  “Three weeks before Naomi disappeared, I went a little crazy. That used to happen to me from time to time, but that was worse than any of the others. I’d come home from working a double shift and found Bodine in our bed with a woman who belittled and berated me every time our paths crossed. I knew he cheated, and most of the time I just let it go, but for some reason, on that particular day, it hit me as being very wrong. I started yelling and throwing things. The woman tried to leave, but I attacked her. Bodine managed to knock me to the floor, but not before I’d scratched deep welts into her face. A neighbor called the police, and I was arrested. My court-appointed lawyer thought I would benefit from therapy, and he set it up. I guess some of the tests came back wrong. I was told they indicated a much deeper problem than they’d anticipated. I agreed to go to the mental health facility for observation and testing, and Bodine’s woman agreed not to press charges.”

  “So you think Naomi might have had the same mental illness that the tests showed you had?” I asked, surprise evident in my voice.

  “The officer said she yelled at Bodine and then stormed out. He said she ran off and didn’t come back. That wasn’t like Naomi. That wasn’t like her at all. She was a good girl. She’d never have yelled at her father unless the craziness took her over the way it took me.”

  I was so stunned, I had no idea what to say. Based on what I’d learned from Woody, it had appeared to me that Bodine Collins had emotionally and physically abused his wife for most of their marriage, and on the one occasion she’d lashed back at him, she was convinced it was a sign she was crazy? And if Naomi lashed out at her father, she was crazy as well? I took a moment to regroup, then said, “You don’t believe your ex-husband killed Naomi. Where do you think she went?”

  “I don’t know for sure. It just seems likely she ran off. The only thing I’m sure of is that her father didn’t kill her. I don’t have any more time. I’ll see you to the door.”

  After I thanked Mrs. Landry, I returned to my car and headed north. Talk about an interview going exactly the opposite of the way I expected. I knew Naomi’s mother had remarried, so I guess I assumed she was now mentally stable, but from what she’d just said, I was beginning to doubt that. I wondered if she’d left one domineering man for another. She’d been married to Timothy Landry for eight years, and yet I hadn’t seen a single photo with her in it in any room I’d been in. All the photos in the living area were of Landry and his children. I wouldn’t be a bit surprised if she hadn’t gone looking for another man to dominate and subjugate her after her marriage to Collins ended.