AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“There’s no record of any Patricia Watson in the Peace Corps,” Brock says. “My cousin Dale checked it out.”
“That doesn’t surprise me.”
“We believe she was killed,” Brock says.
Sixty years later, and Ennis Ainsley still acts surprised. Then he chokes up. “I always wondered myself. In fact, part of me always knew. I put it in the back of my head and refused to think about it. But to hear it said with such finality… Even now, I don’t like to think of her suffering.”
“I understand. I hate to bring up painful memories for you, but we need your help.”
“Of course. Whatever I can do. Your family has taken wonderful care of me over the years.”
Brock clears his throat. “Is there any way that you have anything that once belonged to her? Something that might have some DNA on it?”
“I had a few of her belongings, things she left in her suitcase after she disappeared. We were in Snow Creek at the time. But would any DNA still be viable after all this time?”
“To be honest, I don’t know,” Brock says. “But if you were staying with her at a hotel, it’s likely there was a hairbrush in her belongings. It might have a hair on it with the root intact.”
“But again… Would it be viable after all this time?”
“It may or may not be. I just don’t know. But there’s another possibility as well, perhaps a handkerchief or pair of panties that might have a”—he clears his throat again—“a drop of dried blood.”
I wrinkle my nose. Is he talking about menstrual blood?
“Dried blood after all these years?”
“It’s a shot,” Brock says. “Just a shot.”
Ennis sighs. “I sent most of her belongings back to her parents. I couldn’t bear to look at it after she left, and remember… The story back then was that she joined the Peace Corps, and that she left without telling me. I didn’t think she loved me as I loved her.”
“Did she say she did?” I ask.
Ennis nods. “She did. And I believed her. Foolishly. Or so I thought at the time.”
My heart is breaking for this man. Such a long-lost love that he clearly never got over. How his heart must’ve broken when he thought she left him for the Peace Corps without even saying goodbye.
“You said you sent most of it back to her parents,” Brock says. “What did you keep?”
“Only a few things. Her perfume, and a few other things I couldn’t bear to part with.”
“Anything else?” Brock says.
“Honestly, I’d have to look. Where might I have put all that stuff?”
“So you still have it,” I say.
“Of course. Somewhere. The only things left from the woman I thought was the love of my life. I could never bear to part with them.”
“So they’re here? Somewhere in this house?” Brock says.
“All of my earthly belongings are here. But this was all so long ago, and my memory isn’t what it used to be.”
His short-term memory, he means. His long-term memory seems to be completely intact. He remembers everything about his long-lost love. I can see it in his watery blue eyes.
He never got over her.
I glance at Brock, his strong jawline, his broad shoulders, his dark hair that feels like silk from the Indies.
If he left me today, I don’t think I’d ever get over him. I never felt that way about Raine or any of the others.
