He considered it for a few seconds, then shook his head. “At least let me walk with you. I need to make sure you get home safely.”
“That’s very gentlemanly of you, but honestly, this is a safe place. The only threat is the blackflies.”
“Well, there you go.” He spread his arms wide. “If there is a known threat, I must walk you home.”
With a light chuckle, Gwen surrendered. “All right. But let’s make that phone call first.”
She led him up the flagstone steps, and they paused, away from the noise of the outdoor restaurant, while she searched for Douglas’s phone number in the email. Peter stood patiently at her side while crickets chirped in the grass. She swatted at a few blackflies, then dialedthe number and held the phone between them. It rang twice on the speakerphone before someone answered.
“Douglas Warren.”
Gwen locked eyes with Peter, and she felt a jolt of energy between them. “Hi, Douglas. It’s Gwen Hollingsworth from Nova Scotia. I read your email. Thanks so much for looking into this for me. I appreciate it.”
“No problem,” he replied.
“I should tell you that I’m here with someone who is writing a book that might reference the earthquake. You’re on speakerphone. Is that okay?”
“It’s fine,” Douglas replied. “And if you’re looking for information about the quake, I’m your man. I know everything there is to know, and I have an extensive collection here. Whatever questions you have, just ask, and I’ll do my best to help.”
“That’s wonderful. Thank you so much. We might want to take you up on that offer. We’re still in the early stages of our research.”
She didn’t want to reveal what they were truly working on, and Peter seemed to agree, because he gave her a thumbs-up.
“Good stuff,” Douglas replied. “So here’s what I can tell you about the man in the photograph. His name is Jeremy Mikhailov, and he was born and raised in Valdez.”
Gwen’s blood sparked with excitement. “Could you spell that name for me?”
Peter whipped out his phone to take a note as Douglas spelled Jeremy’s last name and shared more information. “The person I spoke to said he was a well-known character in town, always getting into trouble with the law. Half the town loved him, while the other half loathed him or feared him.”
“He sounds like a criminal,” Gwen suggested, meeting Peter’s speculative gaze in the hazy white glow from her cell phone. The crickets grew louder, and the blackflies were becoming a nuisance. They both waved their hands around until Gwen gestured that they start walkingto escape them. She led the way onto the wide grassy walking path through the vineyard.
“It depends who you’re talking to,” Douglas replied. “Some folks said he had a heart of gold, but he was, factually speaking, a petty thief. From what I understand, you were fine as long as you didn’t cross him. If you did, he’d threaten to burn your house down.”
Peter and Gwen shared a look as they walked through the fading light.
“But he rescued a baby,” Gwen said. “That must have made him into a hero.”
“You would think so,” Douglas replied. “But I’m afraid I don’t have any record of that. There was a lot of chaos in the days after the quake. Power was out, and the whole town had been designated as unsafe. People were evacuated. And lots of people were heroes that day, in all sorts of ways, so Jeremy got lost in the shuffle, I imagine.”
“I understand,” Gwen said.
“All I can tell you is that Jeremy left Valdez after the quake and never returned. The woman I spoke to heard that he’d been spotted in Juneau a few years later, up to his old tricks, stealing motors off fishing boats or breaking into people’s sheds in the winter to steal a shovel or whatnot. That’s all I have for you, I’m afraid.”
Gwen glanced at Peter. “Thank you, Douglas. This has been very helpful. We’ll be in touch if we need more information about the earthquake or anything else.”
“Very good. You have my number.”
They said goodbye, and Gwen ended the call.
“That was interesting,” Peter said.
“It certainly was. I wonder if Jeremy still lives in Juneau.”
“You would think if he’d rescued Scarlett Fontaine’s baby and returned it to her, he would have made that public over the years or bragged about it to someone.”
“Yes,” Gwen replied, trying to make sense of it. “Unless we’re both imagining this entire thing and that’s not even Scarlett in the picture.”
“But it has to be,” he said. “I have a feeling.”
