Finding Answers Read online

  “I guess you aren’t wrong about that.” I motioned for the waitress working the counter to bring me a cup of coffee when she had a chance.

  “The word around town is that Silvia’s kidnapping and Pastor Brown’s murder were carried out by the same person,” Susan added.

  “I suppose that’s a possibility,” I commented. “Do you have any idea why anyone would want to harm both Silvia and Pastor Brown?”

  Susan cocked her head to the side as if to consider my question. “Not really. They both lived in Rescue for a really long time. Silvia attends the pastor’s church, so they knew each other. In fact, it seems to me Silvia volunteers at the church from time to time. Both seem like nice folks who wouldn’t hurt a flea. Any way you look at it, the whole thing seems pretty senseless.”

  “I agree.” I took a sip of my coffee. “It doesn’t make a bit of sense.” I took another sip and narrowed my gaze. “Can you think of anyone who might have some insight into what was going on in either of their lives?”

  “Have you heard whether Silvia has regained consciousness?” Susan asked.

  “Not as of this morning. Her injuries turned out to be extensive, so she’s been transferred to the hospital in Anchorage, where she can get the specialized care she needs.”

  Susan turned slightly to look me in the eye. “If I were the one looking in to things, I’d speak to Pastor Brown’s secretary for sure. Secretaries usually are in the know even more than wives about what’s going on in their bosses’ lives. Of course, Pastor Brown was a widower, so there isn’t a wife to talk to.”

  “That’s a good suggestion. I seem to remember Ilse Baldwin is the church secretary.”

  “Yes, Ilse took over after Veronica left. She technically works for the church, so she might even be in her office today despite the pastor’s death. I’m sure there are arrangements to be made and she’d likely be the one to make them.”

  “I’ll stop by to speak to her after I leave here. How about Silvia?”

  “How about Silvia what?” Chloe said as she slipped up to the counter and gave me a hug. At least she didn’t seem mad.

  “We were just discussing who might be able to provide some insight into the lives of Rescue’s two most recent crime victims,” Susan said.

  “I came to tell you,” I quickly added. “I’m sorry I didn’t get here before you heard.”

  Chloe waved her hand. “Don’t worry about it. I was insane yesterday. I mean, really, what was I thinking to yell at you like that? If I were you, I’d dump me as your best friend. But please don’t,” she added quickly.

  “I’d never dump you. I need you to help keep me grounded.”

  “Charmayne Pewter,” Susan said suddenly.

  I turned away from Chloe and looked at Susan. “Charmayne?”

  “Charmayne and Silvia are great friends. I bet if there’s something going on in Silvia’s life, Charmayne would know.”

  “I don’t suppose you have her phone number?” I asked Susan.

  “Better. She’s working at the visitor center for the summer. I’m pretty sure you’ll be able to find her there if you stop by before five.”

  “This whole thing is just so upsetting,” Chloe said. “I know we made some comments yesterday about not being alone, but now that two members of our community have been the victim of senseless violence, I’m not so sure we were wise to discount the idea so quickly. Do you think there’s some wacko out there kidnapping people at random?”

  I didn’t know, but I certainly hoped not.

  When I left the café, I headed toward the church. I didn’t know if anyone would be on the premises today, but it wasn’t much out of my way, so it couldn’t hurt to check. Ilse Baldwin was a logical, organized, focused woman. She ran the church finances with a tight fist, as well as the schedules and weekly meetings. On Sunday mornings Pastor Brown was in charge as he ministered to his congregation, but the rest of the week it was Ilse who ran things. When I arrived at the church office, I found her on the phone. She motioned for me to take a seat while she finished her call. I’d half-expected her to have taken some time off given the circumstances, but from what I could hear from her side of the call, it sounded as if she was lining up a guest pastor for the following Sunday.

  “Thank you for waiting,” Ilse said as soon as she hung up. “How can I help you?”

  “I guess you know that I, as a member of the search-and-rescue team, was the one who found Pastor Brown’s body.”

  Ilse nodded. “Yes, I’m aware of that.”

  “I’m here now to ask you about him in the weeks preceding his death. Was he distracted, or did he seem overly stressed?”

  She pursed her lips. “Aren’t these the sort of questions the police should be asking?”

  “They are,” I admitted. “And they very well may be. It’s just that after I found Silvia half dead in the mine yesterday, I had the feeling there was someone else I was supposed to help. The problem is, I can’t make a clear connection. I hoped if I can figure out why Pastor Brown and Silvia were targeted, I might be able to figure out who this third person might be.”

  Ilse crossed her arms across her chest as she looked me up and down. I could understand her hesitation. Asking questions relating to Pastor Brown’s death wasn’t my job, and while Ilse and I were acquaintances, it wasn’t as if we were good friends who might share confidences.

  “I’m not sure I should be talking to you about this,” she said at last, “but I’ve heard about your unique talent, and I guess there really could be someone in need of your help. I wish I had a logical explanation about why Pastor Brown was killed, but I don’t. Although…”

  “Although?”

  “The pastor came back to the office after his dinner in town on Sunday. I’d stopped in to pick up a list of florists I was working on getting bids from and noticed he was at his desk. I asked him why he was working on what should have been his evening off, and he said he wanted to make some notes for his sermon next week.”

  “Was that unusual?” I asked.

  “Sure. Why would he need to come to his office to make notes? I’m certain he had notepads, pens, and a computer in his office at home.”

  “Maybe he needed reference material he didn’t have at home,” I suggested.

  “Perhaps. But I noticed something else. Something I found to be both unusual and alarming.”

  “And what was that?”

  “He had a glass on his desk. I’m certain it was filled with brandy. Now, it wasn’t that the man was a teetotaler. He was known to have a brandy in the evening every now and then. But he never drank here in the church offices. Or at least not as far as I knew. And it wasn’t only the brandy I found odd; it was his demeanor. His sermon that morning had been well received, so you’d think he would have been in a good mood, but he was quiet and introspective. He barely said two words to me, and those two words were delivered in a monotone.”

  “So you think he had something heavy on his mind?”

  “That would be my guess, although he didn’t say what might have been bothering him and it’s too late to ask him now.”

  “Did you notice anything else on his desk? A file or a photograph?”

  Ilse shook her head. “No. He was just sitting in his chair, staring into space. I didn’t push for an explanation, but now I wish I had.”

  “Pastor Brown had dinner with Jolene Pinewood and her family on Sunday. He told her that he’d arranged to meet someone he knew from the past. Did he say anything to you that might indicate who it was he was meeting?”

  “He didn’t say a word about it. And I’m quite certain there was no Sunday evening meeting on the official schedule. I would have remembered that.”

  “What time would you say it was you were here on Sunday?”

  “I guess around five.”

  I knew Pastor Brown had been at the Pinewood house until four. Had he come to his office after meeting whoever it was he’d been seeing or before?

  Ilse and I sp
oke for a few more minutes and then I headed back to the shelter. Now that we were officially open for business, it was important for volunteers to show up and do what they’d committed to do. As quasi head of the shelter and the volunteers, I wanted to be sure I set a good example.

  By the time I arrived, the other volunteers were there, the cages had been cleaned, and the animals in our care had been fed and exercised.

  “Oh good, you’re here,” one of them said. “We’ve been discussing the possibility of running an adoption clinic in Fairbanks in a few weeks. The number of animals in need compared to the number of prospective people looking for a pet is going to make placing our wards difficult unless we widen our population pool.”

  “I think holding a clinic in the city is a good idea. Serena and I spoke yesterday about having a grand opening and fund-raiser after Harley gets back in town. We might want to do that first because the event could generate local adoptions.” I didn’t want to spill the beans about Melissa yet. “Harley and I are looking at a date in September. When I have more information, I’ll let you know.”

  Everyone agreed holding the local event first was a good plan. We were discussing possible themes for it when a young woman came in with six kittens. I let the others handle the admittance while I went to check on the animals we already had. I wasn’t needed at the shelter, so I decided to head over to the visitor center to try to catch Charmayne Pewter. She’d only lived in Rescue for about two years, but she gave extensively of her time and talent, and most considered Rescue to have benefited from her move to town. She’d been a history teacher before she retired and had boned up on local history, so she provided a new perspective to everyone who stopped by for coupons and recommendations.

  “Morning, Charmayne.”

  “Harmony, I’m so glad you’re here. I planned to call you later. I’m just so devastated about what happened to poor Silvia. Who would do such a thing?”

  “I don’t know,” I responded. “I was sort of hoping you would.”

  Charmayne put a hand to her chest. “How would I know anything about Silvia’s kidnapping?”

  “I just thought maybe Silvia had said or done something in the days leading up to it that might shed some light on what sort of trouble she was in.”

  Charmayne lifted a brow. “So you think Silvia was kidnapped and left to die because of something she did?”

  That wasn’t exactly what I meant, but I could see how it sounded that way. “I mean the odds are someone in her life, someone she knew, did this. I’m just trying to figure out the who and the why. I’m just trying to help,” I emphasized.

  Charmayne sat down on a stool behind the counter. “I spoke to Sil’s sister this morning. She said she’s still unconscious.” A tear trailed down her slightly wrinkled cheek. “She said she might not ever wake up. I don’t understand how this could have happened.”

  I leaned my arms on the counter and gave her a sympathetic look. “I understand your grief. I don’t know Silvia well, but she’s lived in Rescue since before I was born, and she’s served her community well. Whoever is responsible needs to be brought to justice. I can’t believe there isn’t someone who saw or heard something that will point us in a direction. If Silvia said anything at all to you, even something that seems very minor, about something she planned to do or was on her mind, it could help us find the answer.”

  “Okay.” Charmayne seemed to have come to a decision. She got up, crossed to the door, and turned the Open sign to Closed. She led me into a back room that served as a staff lounge. She pointed to a chair at a small table, then poured us each a cup of coffee from the pot. “I did speak to Silvia at yoga yesterday. She came with Lisa Long, who had to leave early because her husband called to say their baby had a fever and he couldn’t get her to stop crying. After Lisa left, I offered Silvia a ride home, but she said she’d arranged to have breakfast with an old acquaintance and would ask him to drive her home afterward. We left together, and I went to the parking lot to pick up my car. Just as I was pulling out, I saw a dark blue car pull up to the curb. Silvia got in and the car sped away.”

  “Did you catch the license plate number?”

  “No. I wasn’t paying that much attention and didn’t notice, but I think it was a rental.”

  “Did you see the driver?”

  “Not really. I seem to remember dark hair, but that’s about it.”

  “When Silvia told you that she was having breakfast with this friend, how did she seem? Excited? Nervous?”

  Charmayne screwed up her face as she appeared to be considering my question. “Not exactly excited or nervous really. She did seem cautious. Perhaps even a bit apprehensive. She was careful to say she was having breakfast with an old acquaintance. Her reluctance to use the word friend seemed deliberate. I thought to myself it might be one of her old patients who was in town and wanted to catch up. That happens from time to time, you know. Men and women who are helped by doctors have been known to form an unnatural attachment. Silvia was much too polite to turn down invitations when offered, but I do know that at times she found them to be a burden.”

  “So, it’s possible the person who picked Silvia up was a former patient?”

  “Sure. It’s possible, but I don’t know that for certain. We only spoke for as long as it took for Silvia to very politely tell me that she didn’t need a ride home.”

  I stood up and prepared to go.

  “Avis,” Charmayne said.

  “Avis?”

  “The car had a license plate holder from Avis. I have no idea which Avis office, but I suppose Avis is a lead.”

  I nodded. “It is. Thank you. And if you think of anything else, please call me.”

  Avis wasn’t a lot to go on, but it was something. I figured Officer Houston might be able to turn that small tip into a real clue. I could simply have called the police station to relay my bit of information, but after working with Officer Houston the day before, I was somewhat curious about one of Rescue’s newest residents. It wouldn’t take long to stop by to see if he was in. If he wasn’t, I could always leave the information with whoever was on duty.

  “Ms. Carson, how can I help you?” Officer Houston asked after I was shown to his office by the woman who was working the reception counter.

  I sat down opposite him at his desk. “I happened onto a small piece of information I thought you might find useful. According to Silvia’s friend, Charmayne Pewter, the car the man who picked Silvia up from yoga was driving had an Avis license plate holder. We don’t have a car rental place in town, but there’s one at the airport in Fairbanks.”

  Houston steepled his fingers across the front of his chest, a little smile on his face. “That’s very helpful. We have the make, model, and color. It shouldn’t be too hard to get a list of men who rented a dark blue Ford Focus from Avis. Good work.”

  I couldn’t help but grin.

  “I’m glad you stopped by. I was very impressed with your ability to find that woman yesterday. I have to say, when Jake first told me about your gift, I was skeptical, but after seeing you in action, I’m willing to say I’ve never seen anything like it.”

  “Sometimes a gift and sometimes a curse, but thank you. It does feel good when we get to the victim in time.”

  “Can you do that any time you want? Find a missing person with little more than a name?”

  I shook my head. “No. Not always. I can usually see people who are relatively nearby and in need of rescue. The more information I have, the more likely I can get a connection. I know Silvia, so that made it easier. To now, I’ve only connected with people in need of rescue. It’s not like I can walk down the street and read everyone’s mind. It’s pretty selective.”

  “Well, I’m glad to know that if I go up backcountry skiing and get lost, you’ll come fetch me.”

  I laughed. “Trust me, you don’t want to get lost in the backcountry. It’s best to take a guide who knows the terrain. I can only connect with people who are alive, and a lo
t of folks who go without a guide don’t stay alive long enough for me to find them.”

  “Good to know, and thanks for the tip.”

  “If you’re serious about going, talk to Dani Mathews. She teams up with local guides and provides tours to people wanting a real backwoods experience.” I stood up. “I should go. Thank you for your time.”

  “Before you go, as long as you’re giving me newcomer advice, can you recommend a good Italian restaurant?”

  “There aren’t a lot of options for dinner in Rescue. Sarge, the cook at Neverland, can do justice to any dish he prepares. I suppose if you want Italian, he’d be able to prepare something for you. I work the dinner shift tonight. If you want to come by, I’ll introduce you. If Sarge likes you, he’ll make you anything you want.”

  “Thanks. I just might do that.”

  I didn’t know why the thought made me so happy. It shouldn’t have. Hank Houston was an outsider who apparently had a wild hair to rough it here in Alaska for reasons known only to him. There was no way he was dating material, any more than Harley was. One was a superstar who would never settle full-time in Rescue, the other was a townie who’d probably run back to Boston with his tail between his legs once the long nights of winter hit. No, I decided, what I needed, if I decided I even needed a man, was someone local who knew how to survive the snow, the cold, the dark, and the isolation, and had put down roots here because of, not despite, the unique lifestyle that could only be found in the forty-ninth state.

  Chapter 6

  Although Neverland was intended to be a bar first and a restaurant second, it was the food that brought the locals in during the off season, which included pretty much every month of the year other than July and August. My shift normally ran from four to midnight, although during the winter, the bar tended to empty out early, so Jake, in turn, closed early.