Boone looked down at the sheaf of papers beside him. “I found out something along that line tonight. In Allyson’s notes, she mentioned that Dixon was allergic to something. I called Renee’s pastor and found out he was allergic to garlic. Have you discovered Leyland’s allergy yet?”
“It’s also garlic.” The detective’s voice held satisfaction. “One more clue to follow, Mr. Carter. I’ll be in touch.”
“Thanks for calling, Detective.” Boone turned off his phone and picked up the papers he’d printed from Allyson’s files. He forgot to mention Allyson’s question about what had happened the day Dana’s parents died, but it probably wasn’t relevant.
Bright LED lights flooded the records department with enough light that it was easy to forget it was in the basement. Deputy Doug Montgomery hiked his pants up over his big belly and gestured at the rows of beige metal cabinets. “The files are all here. They are arranged by year. When did your parents die?”
Dana shifted a bit closer to Boone who had joined her at the end of her shift. Her lunch was still a hard lump in her stomach, and she wasn’t sure she was ready to look at details of the accident that killed her parents. “Twenty years ago.”
Montgomery stopped and peered at several cabinets before yanking open the fifth one in the row. The metal screeched to a halt. “Help yourself. I’ll be in my office if you need me. A copier’s in the corner there by the table if you need it.”
Dana wet her lips and nodded. “Thanks.”
Montgomery closed the door behind him leaving them alone in the cavernous room that suddenly felt hot and stuffy. She wiped her clammy palms on her jeans and forced herself to step to the files. She found the file labeled NEWELL about halfway back. It almost felt hot in her hand, though she knew it was just her trepidation. She’d spent most of her life trying to forget that day, and now here she was plunging headlong into all the facts.
Boone’s hand, warm and comforting, came down on her shoulder. “I’ll be right here with you. Let’s just see if anything’s here. It’s probably nothing. I can look for you if you’d rather not read it all.”
She shook her head. “I have to face it.” The file was ominously thick in her hands as she carried it to the wooden library table. Boone pulled out a chair for her, and she settled onto it, then opened the file. The picture on top was of the wrecked boat, and she shuddered.
He touched her shoulder again. “You okay?”
She couldn’t tear her gaze from the picture. “I’m fine. It’s just hard to think about that day.”
“You were eight, right?”
“Yes.”
“A hard age to lose your mother.”
All these years she’d tried not to think about her mother. It was as if grief had blanketed her life, the dark folds muffling the feelings and memories of her first eight years of life. Now that she was staring at the picture, it felt wrong that she’d allowed it to happen. Her parents had loved her and her brother, Aaron. Snippets of events flooded her head: Aaron protecting her from a bully at school, Mom discussing their favorite movie, Phantom of the Opera, with her, Dad taking her to fish for the first time.
It was hard to catch her breath with the crushing weight in her chest. What was wrong with her? Why had she blocked out so much of it? Those had been good times not bad. Her hand trembled as she moved the picture to the other side of the file.
A close-up of her father’s dead face was next, and she slammed her eyes shut and stood, nearly knocking the chair over. “I can’t do this.”
“Let me do it.” Boone’s hands steered her away from the table. “There’s a coffeepot by the copier. Get some coffee while I take a look at it all. If there’s anything I need to ask, you’ll be close by.”
Miserably aware of her cowardice, she nodded and headed to the coffeepot. It shouldn’t be this hard. Coffee sloshed over the side as she poured it into a cup. She took a big gulp and grimaced. It tasted old and burnt, but the acrid flavor steadied her and anchored her here to this place and not to the events of a lifetime ago.
Her hand was steady as she walked back to the table. She wouldn’t look at any pictures. Maybe the details of what the investigators found wouldn’t be so traumatic. “Find anything?”
Boone held up a paper. “Were you familiar with the boat they took out that day? A storm washed it ashore, and they were able to examine it. The investigation stated that it wasn’t owned by your uncle but by a neighbor, Owen Cork.”
“I’d forgotten that. Mr. Cork owned a marina, and he was my uncle’s best friend. Since there were so many of us who wanted to go out that day, he loaned him a fishing boat. Mr. Cork had just repaired it and put a new motor on it.”
“Looks like an eighteen-footer with three seats. So that’s why you went with your uncle and his family?”
She nodded. “They had a big boat that held six. We were short a seat for all of us to go, and no one wanted to stay home.”
“The report mentions that the hole caused by the log going through the hull might have been preexisting. Cork swore it was sound when it went out though, so that avenue of questioning appears to have been dropped.”
She detected the suspicion in his furled brow as he looked back at the report. “You’re not sure?”
He shrugged. “I know boats, and the description sounds fishy. The hole was too perfectly round. It sounds like it might have been a plug that got knocked out. It could have happened in the impact, but I’d love to take a look at it myself.”
“It’s probably in a boat graveyard.” She suppressed a shudder.
His gaze sharpened. “Something wrong with going to a boat graveyard?”
“I was trapped in the hold of an old boat overnight. It belonged to Mr. Cork, strangely enough. I was twelve, and I haven’t been on a boat since.” Again, it was something she tried not to remember.
He made a copy of the entire file, then took her arm. “Let’s go see Mr. Cork.”
CHAPTER 28
Broken and abandoned boats stretched for four acres. Boone had been to Cork Boat Salvage before, but it had been several years. A layer of snow coated the hulls, but no amount of snow could cover the stoved-in holes in some of them. Busted motors rusted away in the elements, and rats had torn the stuffing from boat seats and left them as deflated as an abandoned inner tube.
Dana looked a little pale as she got out of his truck and tucked some errant curls back into her sock cap. “It looks smaller and sadder than I remember. When I was a girl, this was a fun place to play hide-and-seek. It seemed to go on forever too.”
“Perception is a funny thing. I fell out of a cherry tree once and sprained my ankle. I crawled for what seemed like miles to the back door. When I look at the yard today, it’s only about twenty feet.”
She looked around. “I don’t see Mr. Cork. Wasn’t he supposed to be here somewhere?”
“His wife said he was wandering around looking for a part to repair a boat.” Boone caught movement from his right side and turned to see a stooped figure rummaging through the remains of what appeared to be an old Lund boat. Grizzled hair stuck out from under a blue knit hat. Bundled up in a down jacket, Cork appeared heavier than he really was.
The man caught sight of them and straightened. A grin broke out on his thin, weathered face. “Boone Carter, is that Miss Dana with you, eh?” His broad Yooper accent stressed the first syllable of every word.
Dana stepped past Boone. “It’s me, Mr. Cork. Good to see you again.”
The old man approached and shook hands with them. “I heard tell in town that you’d been spotted about. You here to stay?”
He was about eighty-five, but he looked about twenty years younger, probably from staying active. Boone saw him around town most weeks. He was often carrying equipment that would cripple a younger man.
“Planning on it. I’m working as a dispatcher.”
Cork’s alert brown eyes twinkled. “That’s good, that’s good. You should stop over and say hey to the missus. She has
fond memories of baking cookies with you and your mama.”
Dana’s smile looked forced. “I’ll do that.”
The old man appeared to be waiting for them to state their business, so Boone obliged. “You remember the day Dana lost her family, I’m sure.”
Cork’s smile vanished, and he nodded. “Ya. Hard to forget such an awful thing.”
“Do you still have the boat that went down with them?”
He blinked, then nodded again. “What you be wanting with that old heap? It won’t tell you much except its sad story.”
Boone hesitated, unsure if he should tell the old guy he suspected he was lying about the previous damage. Before he could make up his mind what to say, Dana took a step forward.
She held out her hand toward him in an appealing gesture. “There’s so much I’ve forgotten about that day. So much I’ve blocked out. I need to come to terms with what happened.”
The suspicious glint in Cork’s eyes faded. “Ya, I can see that.” He turned and pointed toward an old grain bin whose roof was partially caved in. “It’s in yonder building. Mind your step though. The old grain bin could fall if you give it a good shove. The boat is on the north end under an old tarp. I’d go with you, but I’ve got a doctor appointment. Wife’s been harping on me to get a checkup. Foolishness, I call it, eh.”
“We’ll be fine by ourselves. Thanks, Owen.” At least they wouldn’t have to hide their interest in the hull.
The old guy gave them a nod, then walked off toward an old barn where a gray pickup sat. Boone led the way in the opposite direction. Birds fluttered away in indignation as he stepped into the leaning building. Sky showed through in multiple places in the roof, and bird nests and spiderwebs covered the interior walls. It didn’t appear anyone had been here much over the years.
“There it is.” Boone picked his way through the assortment of boat parts toward a tarp covered shape. He tugged the canvas off the boat, and a mouse squeaked and ran in terror.
Dana’s gulp was audible. “I hate mice.”
“You don’t need to come any closer. I know what I need to see.” He leaned over the side and lifted two torn life cushions out of the way to reveal a gaping hole in the hull. Just as the report had stated, the hole wasn’t jagged but as round as if someone had used a hole saw on it. “There it is.” He took out his phone and snapped some pictures.
Dana stepped closer and peered over the side. “What do you think?”
“Looks like someone might have repaired it by making a hole and filling it with a wooden plug that came loose during the impact.”
“So it likely didn’t really have anything to do with the accident?”
“That would be my guess, but I think we need to find out where this boat came from and if Cork knows who repaired it.”
“Why bother if it isn’t likely to have caused the accident?”
“I’m giving Cork the benefit of the doubt, but it’s possible someone did a shoddy job and the repair came out. Maybe the boat was filling with water, and your dad couldn’t control it well enough. Steering a boat filled with water is like trying to guide a log in the rapids.”
Her blue eyes clouded. “You still wonder if someone did it deliberately and killed them, don’t you?”
“I don’t think that’s the case, but Allyson obviously wondered so we need to pursue that thread until we’re sure. You game?”
She squared her shoulders and nodded. “Let’s go talk to the Corks.”
“I’m starving. Let’s grab a pasty at the café first. By then Owen will be back from the doctor’s.” Was his motive purely hunger, or was he just eager to see that lost expression in her eyes vanish for a while?
The Cork residence was as familiar as if Dana had been there yesterday. The big house, built in the 1800s, was in pristine condition. Bright-blue shutters contrasted with the white siding, and the wide wraparound porch was just as inviting as she remembered. The swing moved gently in the wind, and two big pots on either side of the door held the frozen remains of mums.
The two-car garage sat next to the road like most in the U.P. Boone pulled into the drive next to it, and she got out almost before the truck rolled to a stop. Boone had taken the lead with most of this, and it wasn’t fair to him. This was her family who had died. The accident was more than an unlikely clue—it was where her entire world had shifted on its axis. She didn’t think she would ever be whole until she faced what had happened. It was time to get her head out of the sand and examine her life in all its pain and trauma.
With Boone on her heels, she marched up the wide painted steps to the blue door and pressed the doorbell. No answer. Boone reached past her and rang it again. Moments later a familiar female voice called, “Coming.”
Jane Cork threw open the door and drew Dana into a hug. “Owen told me he’d seen you.” She pulled away and held Dana at arm’s length. “Let me look at you. Ya, I see you have the look of your mama just like Owen said.” She tugged on her arm. “Come in, child. I want to know what you’ve been up to.”
Jane hadn’t changed much. Her hair was still dyed the most gaudy shade of red imaginable, and her brown eyes sparkled with the joy of life. She wore enough necklaces to drown her if she fell overboard, and Dana was sure she’d seen the tie-dyed blue-and-purple skirt fifteen years ago. Jane was barefoot and wore a shapeless blue sweater over the skirt.
Dana had always loved her free spirit, and warmth spread through her chest. At least some things never changed. She kicked off her boots on the rug in the entry and handed Jane her coat. Boone did the same. Jane’s house was always spotless, and she liked to keep it that way.
“I’ve got coffee on,” Jane said. “And I just took snickerdoodles out of the oven. I know they’re your favorite.”
“I haven’t had a snickerdoodle since I left here.” The scent of cinnamon made her mouth water.
“I gave you my recipe,” Jane scolded. Her bare feet slapped on the wood floors as she led the way to the kitchen table where a tray of cookies awaited.
“I know. They aren’t as fun to make or eat without you there.”
“Have a seat and I’ll pour the coffee. Owen is washing up and will be out in a minute.”
Boone pulled out a chair for Dana, and she settled on the handwoven cushion. She’d sat at a loom and helped Jane make them when she was fifteen. This warm kitchen with its cheery blue-and-white decor and wide windows felt like coming home. She’d cried on Jane’s shoulder many times over the years.
Shuffling footsteps came from behind her, and Dana twisted in her seat to see Owen entering the kitchen. Without his coat, she could tell he’d lost some weight.
He smiled at her and reached past to snag a cookie. “Ya, it’s about time you got here. Jane hasn’t even let me have a cookie crumb since I got back from the doctor’s.”
“Only one cookie.” Jane walked toward them with cups of coffee. “The doctor says your sugar is too high, and you’ve got to watch your diet.”
Owen sighed. “Woman, I’m eighty-five. I hope my Maker doesn’t make me hang out on this old earth until I’m a hundred. Might as well enjoy the time I have left. I’ve made a particular request to the good Lord that I get a never-ending supply of snickerdoodles in heaven.”
Jane sniffed and rolled her eyes. “He can’t take you until I go, so I plan to keep you as healthy as possible.”
Dana wrapped her fingers around the cup and let it warm her fingers. The thought of anyone believing this sweet couple could have had anything to do with the accident was ridiculous.
Boone took a sip of his coffee. “Thanks for seeing us. We had a couple of questions and wanted to see if you remembered.”
Jane glanced at her husband, and a slight frown creased her forehead. “Owen is having a little trouble in that department, but we’ll do what we can.”
“Jane.” Owen’s voice held a thread of warning.
She waved her hand. “Oh posh, Owen. You think people don’t notice when you forget what da
y it is? You know what the doctor said. No sense in trying to hide it.”
Alzheimer’s? Dana hated the thought of her friends going through that. Maybe they shouldn’t have come.
Boone shot her a warning look and his hand clamped onto her wrist when she made a move to rise. “If you can’t remember, it’s fine. I noticed a round hole in the boat’s hull, and we saw mention of it in the official report too. Do you remember where you got that boat and if you’d had to make any repairs on it?”
Owen stared back at them. “I bought that boat brand new and had it for years. The only thing I ever had to do to the body was paint it. I’d done some repairs, but it was only to the engine. The hull was in fine shape when it went out. Chris had taken it out fishing just the week before. I know it looked strange that the hole was so round, but it was just a fluke. Believe me, I hid nothing from the sheriff.” He glanced at his wife.
Jane nodded too. “That was my favorite boat. It was small enough for me to handle easily, and I often took it fishing myself. Because it was mine, Owen babied it.” She nudged the plate toward Dana. “Have another cookie.”
“Do you think there was anything suspicious about the accident?” A tingle went up Boone’s spine when the Corks looked at each other. “What is it?”
“Owen . . .” Jane’s voice held a warning note.
“She might as well hear it, hon.”
Jane pressed her lips together and got up to get the coffeepot. “Oh go on, you old coot.”
Owen stared at Dana. “There was talk in town that your dad scuttled the boat. He’d lost his job and was despondent, or so the rumor mill went.”
Dana gasped and stared at the old man. “That’s not true. We were moving to a new place where he’d gotten a different job. He was happy that week. All I remember is laughter and fun.”
Owen reached for his cup. “There was likely nothing to the story then, but that’s what everyone was saying. Even Chris mentioned he’d wondered about it.”
“I’ll talk to Chris.” Dana couldn’t believe this was the first time she was hearing this rumor. But it wasn’t true. She was sure of it.