Page 58 of The Secret of Emerald Cottage

Chapter Thirty-Three

A slow slither of sleet crawled down Brec’s spine as he sat stiff in the steel-backed chair in Investigation Room 3 of the Chatham County Sheriff’s office. Jaw tight, he sure in the deuce didn’t want to be here, the memory of his arrest in Dublin still too fresh to ignore.

Gaze flicking to where Molly sat across the long, rectangular steel table poring over one of several photo albums, he noted she didn’t appear any more comfortable than he did, her face bleached as pale as the sallow nicotine-stained walls. The whites of her eyes suddenly flared so wide, they almost swallowed the bright blue of her orbs, setting off an inner alarm. “You okay?” he asked softly, grateful Miss Lilly had gone to the restroom and Sloan had left them alone to look through several boxes of Aunt Lilly’s photo albums he’d requested.

She looked up with a hard swallow, pushing the photo album she was examining across the table so he could see the picture she pointed to. He glanced down at a photo of the Lake Loon Lads sitting on the edge of the far side of Aunt Lilly’s dock at no more than age sixteen. She or Uncle Hal must have snuck up on them because all five were half-turned with cigarettes in their hands, eyes and mouths agape as if caught by surprise. He zeroed in on the one below Molly’s finger. “It’s him,” she whispered with a crack in her voice.

“Him?” He peered up, brows in a bunch.

“The boy in my dream.”

He looked back down, and ice-cold prickles shivered his skin when he realized it was Greg Schulte.

“Are you sure?”

She nodded, fingers shaking as she tucked a loose strand of hair over her ear. “A few years younger maybe, but it’s definitely him. I didn’t notice it from the group picture in Uncle Hal’s office because he was much younger, but I definitely recognize him here.” Her lashes slowly lifted as she met his gaze with a strained look. “That means my dream is coming true, Brec, which means I could be in danger too.”

He grabbed her hands and held on tight. “Don’t go there, Molly. There’s no earthly reason why anyone would want to hurt you.” Forcing his voice to remain calm, he gently stroked her palm with his thumb. “It doesn’t make any sense, lass. More than likely the smothering feeling you felt in your dream has to do with fear for the boy or Aunt Lilly, don’t you think?”

Her throat hitched several times. “Maybe. I guess.”

Miss Lilly returned and instantly keyed in to Molly’s unease the minute she closed the door. “What’s wrong, Molly—did you find what Sloan was looking for?”

Molly glanced briefly at Brec before she appeared to school her features to reflect more calm, tapping one of the albums she’d already been through. “Not yet. None of the people in this album had a coin belt buckle for sure,” she said, quickly reaching for the album she’d pushed to the center of the table. “But I’m only halfway through this one.” She sat and immediately refocused on the task at hand, commencing flipping pages once again.

Miss Lilly’s gaze flicked from Molly to Brec and then to the album, those sharp blue eyes narrowing a hair. “Something in that there photo book upset you, missy, and I want to know right now what it was, either from you or from Brec, and don’t pussyfoot.”

Molly peered up at Brec beneath her lashes with a silent plea before she sank back in her chair with a noisy sigh. “It’s just upsetting seeing all these pictures of that poor boy, you know?”

“Goose goop,” Miss Lilly said with a press of her lips, tapping Molly’s shoulder with no little pressure. “I wasn’t born with a bag over my head, girly-girl, and I ain’t a-wearin’ one now neither. I saw Breccan comforting you before he yanked his hand away when I came in, and you as pale as a bucket of milk, so you may as well spit it out, ’cause I ain’t a-lettin’ go.”

“She had a dream a while back, Aunt Lilly, about a boy eighteen or so,” Brec said calmly, fully aware that Molly did not want his aunt to know about any premonitions she’d had that might cause worry. He reached to give Molly’s hand a quick squeeze, his eyes assuring her that her secret was safe with him. “So when she came across an older picture of Greg that looked like the boy in her dream, naturally she was pretty upset.”

“This true?” Miss Lilly said, sliding back into her chair before she laid a hand on Molly’s shoulder.

“Yes, ma’am.” Molly patted Miss Lilly’s hand with a reassuring smile. “It just caught me by surprise because I didn’t recognize him in any of the pictures in the first albums I looked through. I guess because they were all when the boys were eight through twelve or so, but this one here,” she said quietly, slowly grazing her finger over Greg’s face, “made me realize that Greg was the boy in my dream.”

“That’s all?” Miss Lilly studied her closely, the same tender concern in her eyes that his aunt had given Brec all throughout his youth.

“Isn’t that enough?” Brec said with an arch of his brow, well aware that Molly was honest to a fault and couldn’t lie to save her soul. At least credibly.

“Well now, I s’pose it is.” Miss Lilly leaned to give Molly a sweet hug before gently rubbing her back. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. Why don’t you and Brec go down to that snack room and have a coffee. I can finish up here.”

“No, really, Miss Lilly, we’re almost—”

The door swung open and Sloan entered, carefully closing it behind him before he sat down next to Miss Lilly. Jaw firm, he laid a small plastic bag with the piece of eight Cal had fished out of the lake onto the table before her. “It’s a match, Miss Lilly, which confirms this was the piece soldered to the belt buckle plate we found on the dive.” He glanced around the table. “Anybody find a coin belt buckle in their albums?”

“No,” Brec said while Molly and Aunt Lilly shook their heads. “So, what does this mean then, Sloan?”

Sloan exhaled quietly. “It could mean the belt buckle belonged to Greg, but not likely since neither he nor his parents had the funds for his schooling, much less an expensive item like this.”

“It could have been a gift, maybe for graduation?” Brec said, remembering Molly’s dream about something flashing in the sun when the older boy in her dream passed her on the jogging trail.

Sloan glanced over. “Maybe. But again, not likely since we now have a total of three belts, including the one you found, Brec.”

“Three belts?” Miss Lilly stared at Sloan, obviously taken aback.

“Yes, ma’am, or the remains of three belts, I should say.”