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“Give me your cell number and I’ll send it to you that way.”
He recited his cell phone number to her and she forwarded Dr. Shipman’s number to him in a text.
She held up her phone. “Not sure that text is going through, but it will eventually.”
“When are you going to get that landline?”
“I’ll get to it.”
“You can’t keep running outside down to the road to make calls in case of emergencies.”
“Funny thing is?” She tossed her phone on the kitchen counter. “I never had any emergencies before people started digging into the old Timberline case.”
“Wyatt Carson started it all by kidnapping those three kids in an attempt to duplicate the original crime, and then positioning himself as the hero by rescuing them.”
“You’re right. That put Timberline back in the news and prompted Beth St. Regis to make a pilgrimage out here, and now you. I’m glad Beth got her answers and I hope you do, too, but digging into all this old stuff is stirring up trouble.”
Jim reached her front door and grabbed the handle. Without turning around, he said, “Maybe you should go back to San Francisco, Scarlett.”
“Maybe I have a stake in this myself.”
He leaned his back against the door, facing her. “What would that be?”
“The Timberline Trio kidnappings affected me, too.”
“I think they affected all of us who grew up here.”
“It’s more than that. I’m sure you’ve heard the rumors about the Quileute legends and how some of the elders believed it was a creature from our own myths who kidnapped those children.”
“I remember a little about that.”
“Well, I remember a lot. We were forbidden from discussing the case. It was all hush-hush.”
“Maybe the elders didn’t want to frighten the kids on the reservation.”
She snorted. “They scared us all the time with those old stories, mostly to keep us in line. This was different. Any time the older kids talked about the kidnappings, they were shushed. The parents wouldn’t even discuss it. It was all strange, and Granny wanted no part of it.”
“What do you mean by that?”
“Granny is a more powerful shaman than I am, or at least she was. With children missing, I would’ve thought she’d offer her services to the sheriff’s department, even if they ended up scoffing at her, but she wanted to distance herself from that case.”
“What are you saying?”
“I don’t even know, but I’d be happy if the case were solved and everyone could put their demons to rest.”
“I don’t know if I’m going to solve the case, Scarlett. I just want to understand my part in it, my father’s part in it.”
As she hung on the door, he stepped into the glow of light on the porch. “Just be careful. I’ll stop by tomorrow to install those new locks for you.”
“After lunch is a good time for me.”
“See you then, and thanks for...everything.”
She watched him disappear into the trees surrounding her cabin and listened for the growl of his Harley’s engine. Then she closed the door and rested her forehead against it.
What was it about this damned case that it kept haunting her, insinuating itself into her life? Now she had an even greater reason for seeing it solved—because Jim Kennedy would never be available until it was.
She banged her head against the door—not that she needed him to be available. She didn’t need a complicated man like Jim in her life. She didn’t need to take care of him or rescue him. She was done rescuing men—most didn’t want it and ended up dragging her down with them, anyway.
She returned to the kitchen, corked the rest of the wine and washed out her glass. If Jim abstained from drinking, maybe he was an alcoholic. Even if he was in recovery, she didn’t want to go down that road again.
After cleaning up, she lay in bed staring at the ceiling. Despite that second glass of wine, she couldn’t get to sleep. Jim’s story haunted her. How did anyone survive something like that without cracking up? Death had been hanging over his head on a daily basis. No wonder peeling back the bandage on his painful childhood didn’t scare him. What would?
