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She dragged the boat onto the shore, and the dog jumped out. She fell to her knees and embraced the golden’s warm fur. They’d made it, but they were sitting ducks here. She had to gather enough strength to hide the kayak in case the men came out here searching for her.
It wouldn’t take long for her theft of the kayak to be noticed. All she could do was pray Max sent someone out for her—someone who wasn’t those two men.
Twenty-Four
Morning was generally better with elderly patients, but Jon thought it seemed a lost cause as he walked with Annie toward Mort Jones’s room at Rolling Hills Adult Living Center. The walls of the memory-care unit held memorabilia from the forties and fifties like old signs and army uniforms from World War II and displays of kitchen items. An old red jukebox played an Elvis tune that would have had Bree, a rabid Elvis fan, singing along.
Even the scents seemed designed to enhance memory in the residents. He smelled evergreen and candy cane near an old-time Christmas scene and a hint of pumpkin pie. Much nicer than the stench of urine and feces he’d expected. This was a nice place, well-kept and clean.
A nurse directed them to a community room and told them Mort was putting a puzzle together. When they entered the room, a tiny white-haired lady rose and came toward them with a smile.
She took Annie’s hand. “I knew you’d come to see me today. I told my roommate my daughter would be here any minute. I waited on breakfast for you, and I’m hungry. Let’s eat.”
Annie gave a helpless glance at Jon, and he nodded. “I’ll talk to Mort,” he said.
Annie didn’t have a mean bone in her body, and he knew she couldn’t resist the elderly woman’s childlike trust. She went through the door with the old woman, and he glanced around the room. His gaze locked on a man who looked just like Sean’s father. It had to be his brother. Mort Jones sat at a folding table by himself with puzzle pieces spread out on the surface. He stared blankly at the wall and not at the table. Not a good sign.
Jon approached and put his hand on the man’s frail shoulder. “Mind if I join you?”
Mort didn’t respond, so Jon pulled out a chair and sat across from him so he could gauge his expressions. “You’re Mort Jones, aren’t you? I’m friends with your nephew, Sean, and I knew your brother.”
“He never talks,” a male voice said behind Jon.
Jon turned around to see a portly guy in his eighties. The guy’s wispy white hair covered a bit of his scalp, but his beard was lush and full. His hazel eyes were alert and clear, at least for now. Jon had hoped to find Mort in a similar state, but it hadn’t panned out.
The man folded his arms across his sizable belly. “In the three years I’ve been here, I’ve never heard old Mort say anything. Of course, he didn’t say a whole lot before he got the dementia.”
“You knew him before?”
“Sure did. Worked for him. I was the crew boss on one of his construction crews. Collected a paycheck from Mort for over forty years.”
Jon gestured to the third seat. “Would you mind answering some questions?”
“I’d like to do anything other than stare at four walls and wonder how long it will be today before I forget my name.” The man went around the table and pulled out a chair. The loud squeak it made on the floor made everyone jump except Mort. “Name’s Abraham. I don’t like to be called Abe.”
Jon put a puzzle piece onto a matching one to see if it would engage Mort. No response. “So, Abraham, I assume you knew Mort’s brother and nephew?”
“Clive and Sean. Two peas in a pod for sure. Both tricksters. Couldn’t trust either one not to play a mean joke on you. Oh, they fooled lots of people, but not me. I saw them pull too many cruel stunts.”
“What kind of cruel stunts?”
“Once Sean gave me a sandwich with crude oil mixed in with peanut butter. Took one bite and spit it out. That kind of thing isn’t funny.”
“No, it’s not,” Jon agreed. “Did you ever meet Clive’s sister?”
Abraham scratched his beard. “What was her name? Brenda, Barbara...”
“Becky,” Jon said. “Becky Johnson. She was the baby. Twenty years younger than Clive.”
“Becky, yeah, that was her. Standoffish. My son asked her out once, but she shot him down. Clive and Sean usually went to her place. She hated Rock Harbor and wouldn’t come visit them much after she became a mother.”
That was the time period that interested Jon. “You ever meet the little girl?”
Abraham’s big head swung side to side. “Nope. She showed up once before she became a mom, and that was the only time I laid eyes on her for the next twenty years or so. Can’t rememberexactly. I think that little girl being snatched upset her. She was crying and carrying on that weekend. Never knew what it was about, but Sean told her to leave and get out of town. Big blowup, but I never did figure out what it was about.”
Jon had a suspicion Becky had admitted taking Sarah, and Sean and his dad helped her get out of town undetected. Given Sean’s mean streak, Jon was beginning to believe Clive and his son helped stage the abduction. It all made hideous sense.
He felt Annie’s presence before he saw her. Her hands rested on his shoulders, and he tipped his head back to smile up at her. “Just having a nice talk with a longtime friend of Mort’s.”
