Regan let the curtain fall into place with a sigh. It was raining. He didn’t like driving in the best of weather, and he especially didn’t like driving during a thunderstorm.
Trixie stepped up next to him and leaned her head against his shoulder. “I know what you’re thinking,” she told him. “Why you’re looking so absolutely glum.”
“You do?” He smiled down at her in amusement.
“Yeah. But we don’t have time. Dan will be here in ten minutes.”
Chuckling, he pulled her into a hug. “Sadly, that’s actually not what I was thinking…”
“Oh, I know. I was just kidding. But as far as the rain, don’t worry. Between me and Dan, you won’t need to drive at all.”
“I don’t want-“
“Regan. Stop. It’s okay. You hate cars. We all know this. I don’t mind driving and neither does Dan.” She pulled away from him and nodded toward the crate sitting just outside their small kitchen. “We need to finish packing and get Clyde ready to go.”
“Yoooooowwwwww!”
She bent down and scooped the cat up. “I’m so sorry, kitty. I know it seems like we just got back from Saratoga and now we’re leaving again. But you should have fun with Bobby and Mart at Uncle A’s place. And you know I’ll be bringing you fish when we get back, just like always.”
“Did you call Mart this morning, Wildcat?” Regan asked.
“About half an hour ago. While you were in the shower. I told him to watch Bobby like a hawk. I don’t know what he’s up to, but I know he was lying like nobody’s business when he claimed he just wanted to help us out. If he tries to sneak out in the middle of the night, he's gonna find his big brother guarding the door.”
“Someday that boy is going to realize if there’s one person he probably can’t fool, it’s you. You’re too much alike. You know how he thinks.”
“I’m not sure if I should be insulted or not by the way you keep insisting Bobby and I are so similar.”
“I think he’ll turn out all right, once he grows up. He is a lot like you and you’re amazing, baby.”
“Oh! Good recovery there. I guess I’ll let you off the hook this time.” She stood up on her toes to quickly brush her lips across his.
“Hmmm.” Regan wrapped his arms around her, holding her close, and gave her a kiss of his own. “Now, I am thinking about… other things.”
“You mean how bummed you are that we didn’t get time to properly clean the bathroom before we go?”
“Uh, huh. That’s exactly what I was thinking.”
“It’ll just have to wait. Darn the luck.”
“We are planning on getting two motel rooms tonight, right?”
“Of course. I think Dan would insist on sleeping in the car otherwise.”
“I think I would insist he sleep in the car otherwise.”
There was a sharp knock at the door. Regan reluctantly released her to go answer. “That’s gotta be him,” she said. “And we still haven’t put the sandwiches in the cooler or packed Clyde’s things.”
It took them another quarter of an hour to get everything ready for their trip. Dan loaded up their bags and lunch cooler while Regan draped a towel over Clyde’s crate to keep him dry as he and Trixie made a dash for Dan’s car. Ten minutes later, they were pulling into Andrew Belden’s drive. He met them at the door, casting an uncertain look at the dark clouds stretching across the sky.
“Maybe you ought to consider putting this off a day or two?” he suggested as Trixie knelt down to release Clyde.
“Actually, we’re thinking the weather could work to our advantage,” she told him, scooting back to allow the cat to cautiously climb from his crate and explore his new surroundings. “We’re taking Dan’s car, too, instead of mine. We’re kinda hoping maybe we can slip out of town unnoticed this way. I’d rather not have my latest stalker follow me all the way upstate.”
Andrew nodded. “That’s a good plan. But you still need to be cautious.”
“As always,” she agreed. She stood and flashed him a brief smile. “Hallie gets here in two weeks, right?”
“Yep. She spent some time after graduation visiting Knut and his girlfriend, but she flies in the Tuesday after next. She’s already been shipping things here for over a month now. For a girl who seems so casual and laid back, she sure has a lot of stuff.”
“That’s girls for you,” Dan said seriously. “You shoulda seen all the bags and boxes Trish brought with her when she moved in with the Beldens. It was crazy.”
“I’m not like that,” Trixie protested. She glanced over at Regan. “Am I?”
“Considering you moved in with exactly two suitcases, I’m going to have to say you are definitely the exception to the rule. Though, since the fire, you’ve bought a lot of things for the apartment.”
“Well, yeah. But those are ‘us’ things. Not ‘me’ things. We had to replace everything.”
“True. But I maintain ninety-percent of what you find in our bathroom belongs solely to you.”
“Uh, huh. I’m pretty sure you’ve been sneaking my shower gel. I never used to go through bottles of it that fast.”
“Is that why you smell like a fresh spring garden, Uncle Bill?” Dan asked, grinning widely.
“Very funny. I don’t know what’s happening to your shower gel, Wildcat. But it’s not me. I use the same soap as always.”
Still smiling, Dan nodded toward the clock Andrew kept on his mantle. “If we want to make it to Parson’s Mill by early afternoon, we should hit the road.”
Trixie gave her uncle a brief hug and patted Clyde’s head one last time before heading back out into the rainy day.
“Yoooowwww.”
“You miss her already, cat?” Andrew asked sympathetically. “Don’t worry. She shouldn’t be gone for long. And Bobby and Mart will be here in about an hour to keep you company.”
“Yooww.” Clyde hobbled over to a chair in the corner of the room and crawled underneath. Andrew hoped the poor animal wouldn’t spend his entire visit there.
~~~~~~~~~~
“Your uncle wasn’t kidding,” Dan remarked as he pulled up and parked next to a gas pump. “This isn’t much of a town.”
“Makes Sleepyside look positively booming by comparison,” Trixie agreed. “Hopefully, it won’t be too hard to find Mairéad’s house.” She stumbled over the name slightly and frowned.
Dan shot her a quick grin. “Remember. It’s like ‘parade’ with an ‘m’.”
“It doesn’t sound like that exactly when you two say it.”
“Yeah. But that’s probably as close as you’re gonna get.” He turned slightly to look over his shoulder. “Morning, Sunshine. Or, I should say, ‘afternoon.’ Did you sleep well?”
Regan sat up straighter, rubbing the back of his neck. “How long have I been out?”
“Almost an hour. We’ve reached Parson’s Mill.”
“This is Parson’s Mill?” Regan asked doubtfully as he peered out his window. Along with the gas station and convenience store, he saw a handful of other buildings, including one that had signs for the post office, town hall, public services, and something called “Library Extension.”
“Yep.” Trixie popped open her door. “Blink and you’ll miss it, as the saying goes. I’m gonna go inside and ask for directions while you fill up.”
Dan pulled his wallet from his back pocket and removed a twenty dollar bill. “Here. This place is so antiquated, they don’t even have pay-at-the-pump.”
“You guys want anything to drink or anything while I’m in there?”
“Nah,” Dan replied. “I’m good. I still have half a bottle of Mountain Dew.”
Regan pushed his door open and climbed out of the car, biting back the urge to groan like an old man as his cramped muscles reminded him of how much he hated long car trips. “I’ll come with you, Wildcat,” he said. “I don’t need anything to drink, but I do need a bathroom break.”
Trixie pointed to a sign that read, “Restrooms in back of building.”
“Ah. Thanks.”
The bored-looking young man sitting behind the counter regarded Trixie with only mild curiosity as she stepped through the dusty glass door. A small television set sat on a low shelf to his right, and she could see he’d been playing some sort of first-person shooter game. She wondered how many customers he saw on a typical shift.
“Help you?” he asked as she approached.
“We’d like to put in twenty on pump one,” she replied, setting the cash down on the counter. “And ask you for directions. We’re looking for a local resident.”
“Oh, yeah?”
Now she had more of his attention. She suspected he had assumed, with good reason, that they’d merely stopped in for gas on their way to somewhere else. It was highly unlikely many people came to Parson’s Mill as a specific destination. “We have an address,” she told him, “but we weren’t able to find it on any map. Not even online. We’re looking for Hollyhock Road?”
Suddenly he was frowning. “You’re looking for Maggie Regan?”
“Uh… probably? Her name’s Mairéad, but maybe she goes by Maggie?”
“She don’t see nobody. Just Tom White who makes her deliveries and old Doc Campbell.”
“We’re hoping she’ll make an exception for us,” Trixie said, reluctant somehow to reveal too much information.
“Good luck with that. What’s up with all the interest in the old cow anyway?”
“All the interest? Do you mean someone else has been asking about her?”
The young man nodded, his eyes tracking to the door behind her as Regan pulled it open. “Yeah. Couple a months ago, two men came here looking for her, and then a few days ago, some guy turned up and was asking all sorts of questions.”
Trixie turned to look at Regan with a thoughtful expression. “I’m willing to bet the one asking all the questions was Mr. Wheeler’s private investigator. But who do you suppose the other men were? Distant relations?”
“Huh?”
“Some men were looking for your aunt a few months ago,” she explained. “I was just wondering if they could also be relatives.”
“Your aunt?” The young man’s voice revealed a strong note of surprise.
Trixie inwardly winced. She hadn’t meant to let that slip in front of the store clerk. She wasn’t sure why, but she somehow felt that it would be best for them and Mairéad Regan if they all kept a very low profile.
She gave herself a mental shake. Probably, this was some sort of paranoia induced by those photographs. What possible connection could Mairéad have with that?
“We believe my great-aunt lives in the vicinity,” Regan said. “At 18 Hollyhock Road.”
“Maggie Regan’s the only one left on Hollyhock Road. Used to be a few other folks out there, but they’ve moved on.”
Regan nodded. “That could be her.”
“Well, like I was telling your, uh, friend here, she don’t like visitors. And she keeps a shotgun to warn people off.”
“We’ll take our chances. Could you tell us how to find her? Please.”
“Get back out on the road and head north about a quarter mile. Right after you pass the turn-off for CR155, you’ll see a dirt road on your left. Take that road out past the abandoned Culpepper farm. I don’t know exactly how far you gotta go, ‘cause I’ve never been to Maggie’s property, but it can’t be too much further after the farm. Hollyhock Road dead-ends at Madison Lake. Somewhere near there you’ll find Maggie’s cabin.”
“Thank you,” Regan said. “We should be able to find it.”
“Yeah. If you come to a big sign on the road advertising Mo’s Garage, you’ve gone too far and missed Hollyhock. You gotta really watch for it. It’s not used much, so it’s pretty overgrown.”
They thanked him again and returned to the car. Dan tossed his empty soda bottle into the highly dented metal trash can next to the gas pump and opened his door. “Do we know where we’re going?” he asked before sliding behind the wheel.
“Fairly sure,” Trixie said. She repeated the clerk’s directions as she settled into her seat and strapped on the belt. Her cell phone chirped and she rummaged around her backpack to find it, frowning as she saw the blinking light that alerted her to several messages. She read through them quickly, replying to Honey that they’d just made it to Parson’s Mill and sending a similar text to Eric, promising to check-in with him again later. “Di’s made us reservations at a Motel 6. She says it’s about twenty miles from here but was the closest thing around.”
“That’s fine,” Dan said agreeably as he swung the car back out onto the deserted road. “After we see Aunt Mairéad, we can go check in.”
“I’d say we could ask if she’d like to go to dinner with us somewhere,” Trixie murmured as she dropped her phone back in her bag, “but one, there doesn’t seem to be a somewhere to go and two, we keep hearing she never leaves her house. Do you suppose we should be bringing her something? Even groceries?”
“I thought it might be better to get there and ask her what she needs,” Regan replied. “Assuming she’ll even talk to us.”
“Yeah.” Trixie looked over at Dan and flashed him a half-smile. “Apparently she’s got a shotgun. Probably we should be careful in how we approach the house. I say you go knock on the door while we wait in the car.”
“Thanks, Trix,” he grumbled. “Nice to know you’re always thinking about me and my safety.”
“You know I love ya like a brother, Watchdog.”
“Well, yeah. But I always thought you meant in an adoring, ‘love you like I love Brian’ way. Not a ‘love you ‘cause I’m stuck with you like Mart’ way. Geeze.”
~~~~~~~~~~
Maggie Regan’s cabin sat in a small clearing surrounded by dense woods. Regan studied it with concern. The porch was sagging and the roof looked as if it could cave in at even the hint of a strong wind. He crossed the weedy patch of grass that he supposed could be considered her front yard. He was about to climb the three narrow steps to the door when it opened partially.
“Who’s there?” a tremulous voice called. “Go away! I don’t want to buy anything!”
“Maggie? Ma’am? Mairéad?”
“Go away!” she cried again. “I’ve got a gun. I won’t hesitate to use it!”
Regan winced slightly. Getting shot wasn’t really his idea of a great way to finally meet a member of his family. “Ma’am, I’m not here to sell you anything. My name is William Regan. I’m Neall’s son.”
There was a long pause before she spoke. “Step back,” she ordered. “Into the sunlight. Where I can see you better.”
Regan did as he was bade, looking up at the door and waiting.
Maggie slowly emerged from her cabin, clutching her shotgun with both hands. She stared at Regan intently. “Neall’s boy?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“You look just like him,” she said, her expression relaxing only somewhat.
“That’s what I’ve been told.”
“Where’s your sister?”
He hadn’t been necessarily expecting her to ask that immediately, and he felt even more off balance. “She… died several years ago,” he replied soberly. “I – I brought her son with me. Daniel.” He turned and waved a hand toward the car.
Maggie jerked her gun up. “Died? Died how? When? And who’s that girl you got with you, too?”
Regan reflexively held up his hands in a defensive position. “Uh, whoa. Please, ma’am. Could you aim that somewhere else? You don’t need to be afraid of us. That’s Trixie. She’s my gi – she’s my fiancée.” He smiled in a manner he hoped she found reassuring. He knew he’d stretched the truth a bit there, as he and Trixie weren’t officially engaged, but they were “engaged to be engaged,” as she put it, and he thought it would be best to make it sound as if Trixie were as much a part of the family as he could.
“How’d your sister die?” Maggie demanded, not lowering her weapon.
“She was sick. Cancer.”
“You sure? You sure about that?”
Regan regarded the older woman blankly, taken aback. At no point had he ever questioned how Kalin had died. Why would he have? “That’s what the court told me, when they contacted me about Dan.”
Maggie stared at him hard. Abruptly, she turned and yanked her door open wide. “You’d better come inside. Bring them, too.”
Regan turned and gestured to Dan and Trixie. They climbed quickly from the car and hurried to join him.
“Well?” Dan muttered quietly as Maggie vanished into the darkness of her cabin.
“I don’t think she’s planning to shoot us,” Regan told him, grimacing, “but I’m not a hundred percent certain about that.”
“Awesome.”
Maggie’s home was a simple, three-room structure atop a bricked-in cellar. The main room comprised the kitchen, dining, and sitting areas. The bathroom and only bedroom were in the back. The furniture was old and worn, and the cabin had a musty smell that spoke of a possible mold problem. She waved them toward a brown and yellow sofa then sat herself in a wooden rocker next to an old stove.
Before Regan could make the introductions, Maggie leveled Dan with a steely-eyed gaze. “William tells me your mother died of cancer.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“How old were you? When she died?”
“Uh… twelve.”
“And you’re sure it was cancer? Not something else?”
“Yeah. I’m sure. We didn’t have a lot of money or good insurance so we couldn’t afford any expensive treatments.” Dan gave his uncle a helpless look. Why was she so concerned about how his mom died?
“Where’s your father?”
“He… he, uh, abandoned us when I was a baby. He only recently came back into the picture.”
Maggie snorted softly at that. “She was always a wild one, Kalin. Not surprised she took up with the wrong sort of man.”
Dan felt himself bristling, but managed to hold his temper in check. He didn’t like the insult to his mother, but there was at least the grain of truth in the assessment of his father.
“You should see about investigating your mother’s death. It wouldn’t surprise me at all to find out she’d been poisoned or something. They got to your grandparents. They got to my husband.”
“Ma’am?” Regan’s tone took on a distinct incredulous note. “Got to? They?”
“Neall got involved in something dangerous. He was in way over his head and a lot of people paid the price for it. The police ruled my husband’s death a suicide. Suicide! Ridiculous. You tell me, boy. How does a left-handed man shoot himself in the right side of his head?” Maggie frowned severely. “A few days after he was killed, I got a phone call, warning me to keep quiet. And that’s what I’ve done, all these years.”
“I don’t understand,” Regan said slowly. “Just what was my father involved with that was so dangerous? And he and my mother were killed in a car accident. They weren’t murdered.”
“Humph. A car accident is probably one of the easiest ways to murder someone. Short of shootin’ ‘em. And as for what Neall was up to? I haven’t any idea. That’s the whole kicker. I’ve spent all these years in hiding not because I know anything that could get me killed, but because I don’t, even though someone thinks I do.”
Trixie had a dozen or more questions she wanted very much to ask, but she forced herself to sit still and wait. This was Regan’s aunt. One who, it seemed, was quite possibly insane. She would let him decide how to proceed with the conversation.
“Ma’am, if you’ll forgive me for asking… if you don’t know what my dad was involved with, how do you know it was anything at all?”
“Because the damn fool told me so himself.” Maggie pushed herself out of her chair and crossed the cabin. She opened a cabinet in the kitchen area and reached for a tin on the top shelf. She carried it back to them and handed it Regan. “This is for you. Take it. Neall came to see us and told us if anything happened to him and your mother, he wanted us to take you and your sister in. Raise you and give you this when you were old enough.”
Regan held the tin with clenched fingers. So his father had made some sort of plan for him and Kalin? What had happened, then? How had they ended up at the group home?
“I came home from the store one day and found my Craig dead in his favorite chair. Three days later, I learned your parents were killed. That same day, I got the threatening phone call.”
“So you just abandoned us?” Regan asked, before he could think better of it.
“You were safer that way,” Maggie snapped. “I’d hoped you’d get adopted. New names. New families.”
“Yeah, well, that didn’t happen,” he replied tightly. “We were too old. Most kids over four never get adopted once they’re in the system.”
“I’m sorry.”
The words were spoken softly, and Regan could tell she meant her apology, but he hardly felt mollified. “And this?” He held the tin up for a moment. “Did you ever think to maybe look for us? We only found you because my parents used to work for my boss and he found some old contact information. When were you going to give this to me?”
“Open it.”
Regan snapped off the top. Inside, there were two items. One was a photograph of an unusual gravestone. A carved angel that he thought had to be close to life-size was draped over the marker, head down as if in mourning. He turned it over to see “NYC - Caoilainn” scrawled in a messy handwriting. Baffled, he handed the photo to Dan. “Do you recognize this? It’s got your mother’s name on the back.”
Dan immediately nodded his head. “Yeah. I do recognize it. I haven’t thought of it in years, but it used to give me nightmares… Mom took me to visit it sometimes. I remember her telling me we were related to whoever was buried there, but I can’t remember what the name was on the grave. It was a long time ago and I was pretty young.”
Trixie took the picture and studied it. “Creepy,” she murmured softly. She flipped it over and frowned. “I thought your mom’s name was Caitlin?”
“Kalin,” Dan corrected with a brief smile. “No ‘t’. And that’s the Irish spelling there.”
Regan had picked up the other item from the tin. It was a postcard. From Sleepyside. It was addressed to his mother from his father. The message was short. “I’ve found our new home. We can live out the rest of our days here. A new beginning. Love, Neall.”
“Grandfather was planning to move your family to Sleepyside?” Dan asked as he read the card himself. “What kind of wacky coincidence is that?”
Regan shook his head. He looked back up at Maggie. “I don’t understand. Why would my dad want you to give us this? It makes no sense. A picture and a postcard? Not a letter? Or… or a will? Anything that would actually tell us something about our family?”
“That’s it. He said it was for you and your sister and that was it. Wouldn’t say anything else. I kept the tin all these years, just in case, but I didn’t really think I’d ever find either of you again.”
“It’s hard to find anyone when you aren’t looking.” Regan recognized the rudeness and hostility in his words, but he refused to take them back. His parents had expected Rory and Maggie Regan to take him and his sister in. They hadn’t been completely irresponsible where their children were concerned, as he’d always believed.
“Who says I wasn’t looking?”
“You were?”
“Not immediately. Not for years. Like I said. I thought you were better off, disappearing into the system, away from any ties to your father. A while back… it’s been almost fifteen years now I think, I heard a woman had come to Parson’s Mill, looking for me. I wasn’t here then, though. I’d had a bad fall and broken my hip. Doc Campbell insisted on taking me to Malone. To the hospital. The woman didn’t leave a name or message, but I always wondered if it had been Kalin.”
“You never tried to find out for sure?”
“No. It might’ve been her or it might’ve been someone trying to get information about your father. I figured if it was Kalin, eventually she’d come back. Only she never did. Then last year… just before Christmas, Doc let me know my time is almost up. Got some organs that’re failing.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Eh. I’m old. And tired. I’m ready to go. So, when I got the news and knew there wasn’t much anyone could do to me anymore, I asked an old friend to see if he could find you. Couldn’t find any record of Kalin and all we found out about you was that you’d been in some trouble about ten years back. Something about race horses and drugs. Tom wasn’t sure where you’d gotten to after that, but he told me I oughta quit lookin’, seeing as how you were some kind of crook.”
“He didn’t do it,” Trixie said, her eyes narrowed in a sharp glare. “He was cleared of all charges. He was framed.”
A ghost of a smile flitted across Maggie’s heavily wrinkled face. “That’s good to know. In any case, I figured the chances were small that I’d ever see either you or Kalin again, but I held on to that old tin anyway. I couldn’t bring myself to toss it out.”
Regan looked down at the photo and postcard again. He was thoroughly baffled, and not completely certain his great-aunt wasn’t simply a lunatic making up every word she spoke.
“So. There. You got what your father left you,” Maggie said abruptly. “It’s time for you to go.”
Startled, Regan lifted his eyes to meet hers. “We… had hoped to maybe talk with you some more about our family. I was very young when-“
“I think it would be better if you would leave.”
Trixie stood rather quickly, pasting a patently false smile on her lips. “We wouldn’t want to be any sort of imposition,” she said with a mock-sweetness. “It’s obvious you’re a very busy woman.”
“Uh, we did want to offer to do some shopping for you, if you need,” Regan told her. “We could drive up to-“
“I’ve got a friend who brings me everything I need.”
“Right.” Regan climbed to his feet and exhaled heavily. “In that case, we’ll be going. Thank you. For keeping this for me.” He shook the tin slightly as he spoke.
Maggie nodded once. She crossed the small room to the door and peeked through the curtain window before opening it.
“It was nice meeting you,” Dan said quietly as he stepped outside, feeling like it was an inane thing to say, but not able to come up with anything he thought might sound better. "Can I leave you a phone number where you can reach us?"
"Not necessary." Maggie followed them onto the porch, and Trixie stepped hurriedly to one side before there was a chance of a collision. She was about to move forward again when Maggie stumbled and grabbed her arm in a surprisingly strong grip.
Trixie turned to help the older woman, reaching out her free hand as Maggie leaned closer. “Ma’am? Are you all right?”
“Don’t trust anybody,” Maggie whispered hurriedly. “And always assume you’re being watched and that someone may be listening in on every conversation. Don’t let them come back, girl. You hear? I’m not worried about me anymore, but it’s too dangerous for them. I can only pray no one knows you’re here now, but I wouldn’t count on it. Follow the photograph. That’s all I can tell you. It all starts there.”
Trixie stared at her, not sure how to respond. Maggie straightened and let go of her arm. She walked back into her cabin and shut the door without another word.
Trixie stepped up next to him and leaned her head against his shoulder. “I know what you’re thinking,” she told him. “Why you’re looking so absolutely glum.”
“You do?” He smiled down at her in amusement.
“Yeah. But we don’t have time. Dan will be here in ten minutes.”
Chuckling, he pulled her into a hug. “Sadly, that’s actually not what I was thinking…”
“Oh, I know. I was just kidding. But as far as the rain, don’t worry. Between me and Dan, you won’t need to drive at all.”
“I don’t want-“
“Regan. Stop. It’s okay. You hate cars. We all know this. I don’t mind driving and neither does Dan.” She pulled away from him and nodded toward the crate sitting just outside their small kitchen. “We need to finish packing and get Clyde ready to go.”
“Yoooooowwwwww!”
She bent down and scooped the cat up. “I’m so sorry, kitty. I know it seems like we just got back from Saratoga and now we’re leaving again. But you should have fun with Bobby and Mart at Uncle A’s place. And you know I’ll be bringing you fish when we get back, just like always.”
“Did you call Mart this morning, Wildcat?” Regan asked.
“About half an hour ago. While you were in the shower. I told him to watch Bobby like a hawk. I don’t know what he’s up to, but I know he was lying like nobody’s business when he claimed he just wanted to help us out. If he tries to sneak out in the middle of the night, he's gonna find his big brother guarding the door.”
“Someday that boy is going to realize if there’s one person he probably can’t fool, it’s you. You’re too much alike. You know how he thinks.”
“I’m not sure if I should be insulted or not by the way you keep insisting Bobby and I are so similar.”
“I think he’ll turn out all right, once he grows up. He is a lot like you and you’re amazing, baby.”
“Oh! Good recovery there. I guess I’ll let you off the hook this time.” She stood up on her toes to quickly brush her lips across his.
“Hmmm.” Regan wrapped his arms around her, holding her close, and gave her a kiss of his own. “Now, I am thinking about… other things.”
“You mean how bummed you are that we didn’t get time to properly clean the bathroom before we go?”
“Uh, huh. That’s exactly what I was thinking.”
“It’ll just have to wait. Darn the luck.”
“We are planning on getting two motel rooms tonight, right?”
“Of course. I think Dan would insist on sleeping in the car otherwise.”
“I think I would insist he sleep in the car otherwise.”
There was a sharp knock at the door. Regan reluctantly released her to go answer. “That’s gotta be him,” she said. “And we still haven’t put the sandwiches in the cooler or packed Clyde’s things.”
It took them another quarter of an hour to get everything ready for their trip. Dan loaded up their bags and lunch cooler while Regan draped a towel over Clyde’s crate to keep him dry as he and Trixie made a dash for Dan’s car. Ten minutes later, they were pulling into Andrew Belden’s drive. He met them at the door, casting an uncertain look at the dark clouds stretching across the sky.
“Maybe you ought to consider putting this off a day or two?” he suggested as Trixie knelt down to release Clyde.
“Actually, we’re thinking the weather could work to our advantage,” she told him, scooting back to allow the cat to cautiously climb from his crate and explore his new surroundings. “We’re taking Dan’s car, too, instead of mine. We’re kinda hoping maybe we can slip out of town unnoticed this way. I’d rather not have my latest stalker follow me all the way upstate.”
Andrew nodded. “That’s a good plan. But you still need to be cautious.”
“As always,” she agreed. She stood and flashed him a brief smile. “Hallie gets here in two weeks, right?”
“Yep. She spent some time after graduation visiting Knut and his girlfriend, but she flies in the Tuesday after next. She’s already been shipping things here for over a month now. For a girl who seems so casual and laid back, she sure has a lot of stuff.”
“That’s girls for you,” Dan said seriously. “You shoulda seen all the bags and boxes Trish brought with her when she moved in with the Beldens. It was crazy.”
“I’m not like that,” Trixie protested. She glanced over at Regan. “Am I?”
“Considering you moved in with exactly two suitcases, I’m going to have to say you are definitely the exception to the rule. Though, since the fire, you’ve bought a lot of things for the apartment.”
“Well, yeah. But those are ‘us’ things. Not ‘me’ things. We had to replace everything.”
“True. But I maintain ninety-percent of what you find in our bathroom belongs solely to you.”
“Uh, huh. I’m pretty sure you’ve been sneaking my shower gel. I never used to go through bottles of it that fast.”
“Is that why you smell like a fresh spring garden, Uncle Bill?” Dan asked, grinning widely.
“Very funny. I don’t know what’s happening to your shower gel, Wildcat. But it’s not me. I use the same soap as always.”
Still smiling, Dan nodded toward the clock Andrew kept on his mantle. “If we want to make it to Parson’s Mill by early afternoon, we should hit the road.”
Trixie gave her uncle a brief hug and patted Clyde’s head one last time before heading back out into the rainy day.
“Yoooowwww.”
“You miss her already, cat?” Andrew asked sympathetically. “Don’t worry. She shouldn’t be gone for long. And Bobby and Mart will be here in about an hour to keep you company.”
“Yooww.” Clyde hobbled over to a chair in the corner of the room and crawled underneath. Andrew hoped the poor animal wouldn’t spend his entire visit there.
~~~~~~~~~~
“Your uncle wasn’t kidding,” Dan remarked as he pulled up and parked next to a gas pump. “This isn’t much of a town.”
“Makes Sleepyside look positively booming by comparison,” Trixie agreed. “Hopefully, it won’t be too hard to find Mairéad’s house.” She stumbled over the name slightly and frowned.
Dan shot her a quick grin. “Remember. It’s like ‘parade’ with an ‘m’.”
“It doesn’t sound like that exactly when you two say it.”
“Yeah. But that’s probably as close as you’re gonna get.” He turned slightly to look over his shoulder. “Morning, Sunshine. Or, I should say, ‘afternoon.’ Did you sleep well?”
Regan sat up straighter, rubbing the back of his neck. “How long have I been out?”
“Almost an hour. We’ve reached Parson’s Mill.”
“This is Parson’s Mill?” Regan asked doubtfully as he peered out his window. Along with the gas station and convenience store, he saw a handful of other buildings, including one that had signs for the post office, town hall, public services, and something called “Library Extension.”
“Yep.” Trixie popped open her door. “Blink and you’ll miss it, as the saying goes. I’m gonna go inside and ask for directions while you fill up.”
Dan pulled his wallet from his back pocket and removed a twenty dollar bill. “Here. This place is so antiquated, they don’t even have pay-at-the-pump.”
“You guys want anything to drink or anything while I’m in there?”
“Nah,” Dan replied. “I’m good. I still have half a bottle of Mountain Dew.”
Regan pushed his door open and climbed out of the car, biting back the urge to groan like an old man as his cramped muscles reminded him of how much he hated long car trips. “I’ll come with you, Wildcat,” he said. “I don’t need anything to drink, but I do need a bathroom break.”
Trixie pointed to a sign that read, “Restrooms in back of building.”
“Ah. Thanks.”
The bored-looking young man sitting behind the counter regarded Trixie with only mild curiosity as she stepped through the dusty glass door. A small television set sat on a low shelf to his right, and she could see he’d been playing some sort of first-person shooter game. She wondered how many customers he saw on a typical shift.
“Help you?” he asked as she approached.
“We’d like to put in twenty on pump one,” she replied, setting the cash down on the counter. “And ask you for directions. We’re looking for a local resident.”
“Oh, yeah?”
Now she had more of his attention. She suspected he had assumed, with good reason, that they’d merely stopped in for gas on their way to somewhere else. It was highly unlikely many people came to Parson’s Mill as a specific destination. “We have an address,” she told him, “but we weren’t able to find it on any map. Not even online. We’re looking for Hollyhock Road?”
Suddenly he was frowning. “You’re looking for Maggie Regan?”
“Uh… probably? Her name’s Mairéad, but maybe she goes by Maggie?”
“She don’t see nobody. Just Tom White who makes her deliveries and old Doc Campbell.”
“We’re hoping she’ll make an exception for us,” Trixie said, reluctant somehow to reveal too much information.
“Good luck with that. What’s up with all the interest in the old cow anyway?”
“All the interest? Do you mean someone else has been asking about her?”
The young man nodded, his eyes tracking to the door behind her as Regan pulled it open. “Yeah. Couple a months ago, two men came here looking for her, and then a few days ago, some guy turned up and was asking all sorts of questions.”
Trixie turned to look at Regan with a thoughtful expression. “I’m willing to bet the one asking all the questions was Mr. Wheeler’s private investigator. But who do you suppose the other men were? Distant relations?”
“Huh?”
“Some men were looking for your aunt a few months ago,” she explained. “I was just wondering if they could also be relatives.”
“Your aunt?” The young man’s voice revealed a strong note of surprise.
Trixie inwardly winced. She hadn’t meant to let that slip in front of the store clerk. She wasn’t sure why, but she somehow felt that it would be best for them and Mairéad Regan if they all kept a very low profile.
She gave herself a mental shake. Probably, this was some sort of paranoia induced by those photographs. What possible connection could Mairéad have with that?
“We believe my great-aunt lives in the vicinity,” Regan said. “At 18 Hollyhock Road.”
“Maggie Regan’s the only one left on Hollyhock Road. Used to be a few other folks out there, but they’ve moved on.”
Regan nodded. “That could be her.”
“Well, like I was telling your, uh, friend here, she don’t like visitors. And she keeps a shotgun to warn people off.”
“We’ll take our chances. Could you tell us how to find her? Please.”
“Get back out on the road and head north about a quarter mile. Right after you pass the turn-off for CR155, you’ll see a dirt road on your left. Take that road out past the abandoned Culpepper farm. I don’t know exactly how far you gotta go, ‘cause I’ve never been to Maggie’s property, but it can’t be too much further after the farm. Hollyhock Road dead-ends at Madison Lake. Somewhere near there you’ll find Maggie’s cabin.”
“Thank you,” Regan said. “We should be able to find it.”
“Yeah. If you come to a big sign on the road advertising Mo’s Garage, you’ve gone too far and missed Hollyhock. You gotta really watch for it. It’s not used much, so it’s pretty overgrown.”
They thanked him again and returned to the car. Dan tossed his empty soda bottle into the highly dented metal trash can next to the gas pump and opened his door. “Do we know where we’re going?” he asked before sliding behind the wheel.
“Fairly sure,” Trixie said. She repeated the clerk’s directions as she settled into her seat and strapped on the belt. Her cell phone chirped and she rummaged around her backpack to find it, frowning as she saw the blinking light that alerted her to several messages. She read through them quickly, replying to Honey that they’d just made it to Parson’s Mill and sending a similar text to Eric, promising to check-in with him again later. “Di’s made us reservations at a Motel 6. She says it’s about twenty miles from here but was the closest thing around.”
“That’s fine,” Dan said agreeably as he swung the car back out onto the deserted road. “After we see Aunt Mairéad, we can go check in.”
“I’d say we could ask if she’d like to go to dinner with us somewhere,” Trixie murmured as she dropped her phone back in her bag, “but one, there doesn’t seem to be a somewhere to go and two, we keep hearing she never leaves her house. Do you suppose we should be bringing her something? Even groceries?”
“I thought it might be better to get there and ask her what she needs,” Regan replied. “Assuming she’ll even talk to us.”
“Yeah.” Trixie looked over at Dan and flashed him a half-smile. “Apparently she’s got a shotgun. Probably we should be careful in how we approach the house. I say you go knock on the door while we wait in the car.”
“Thanks, Trix,” he grumbled. “Nice to know you’re always thinking about me and my safety.”
“You know I love ya like a brother, Watchdog.”
“Well, yeah. But I always thought you meant in an adoring, ‘love you like I love Brian’ way. Not a ‘love you ‘cause I’m stuck with you like Mart’ way. Geeze.”
~~~~~~~~~~
Maggie Regan’s cabin sat in a small clearing surrounded by dense woods. Regan studied it with concern. The porch was sagging and the roof looked as if it could cave in at even the hint of a strong wind. He crossed the weedy patch of grass that he supposed could be considered her front yard. He was about to climb the three narrow steps to the door when it opened partially.
“Who’s there?” a tremulous voice called. “Go away! I don’t want to buy anything!”
“Maggie? Ma’am? Mairéad?”
“Go away!” she cried again. “I’ve got a gun. I won’t hesitate to use it!”
Regan winced slightly. Getting shot wasn’t really his idea of a great way to finally meet a member of his family. “Ma’am, I’m not here to sell you anything. My name is William Regan. I’m Neall’s son.”
There was a long pause before she spoke. “Step back,” she ordered. “Into the sunlight. Where I can see you better.”
Regan did as he was bade, looking up at the door and waiting.
Maggie slowly emerged from her cabin, clutching her shotgun with both hands. She stared at Regan intently. “Neall’s boy?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“You look just like him,” she said, her expression relaxing only somewhat.
“That’s what I’ve been told.”
“Where’s your sister?”
He hadn’t been necessarily expecting her to ask that immediately, and he felt even more off balance. “She… died several years ago,” he replied soberly. “I – I brought her son with me. Daniel.” He turned and waved a hand toward the car.
Maggie jerked her gun up. “Died? Died how? When? And who’s that girl you got with you, too?”
Regan reflexively held up his hands in a defensive position. “Uh, whoa. Please, ma’am. Could you aim that somewhere else? You don’t need to be afraid of us. That’s Trixie. She’s my gi – she’s my fiancée.” He smiled in a manner he hoped she found reassuring. He knew he’d stretched the truth a bit there, as he and Trixie weren’t officially engaged, but they were “engaged to be engaged,” as she put it, and he thought it would be best to make it sound as if Trixie were as much a part of the family as he could.
“How’d your sister die?” Maggie demanded, not lowering her weapon.
“She was sick. Cancer.”
“You sure? You sure about that?”
Regan regarded the older woman blankly, taken aback. At no point had he ever questioned how Kalin had died. Why would he have? “That’s what the court told me, when they contacted me about Dan.”
Maggie stared at him hard. Abruptly, she turned and yanked her door open wide. “You’d better come inside. Bring them, too.”
Regan turned and gestured to Dan and Trixie. They climbed quickly from the car and hurried to join him.
“Well?” Dan muttered quietly as Maggie vanished into the darkness of her cabin.
“I don’t think she’s planning to shoot us,” Regan told him, grimacing, “but I’m not a hundred percent certain about that.”
“Awesome.”
Maggie’s home was a simple, three-room structure atop a bricked-in cellar. The main room comprised the kitchen, dining, and sitting areas. The bathroom and only bedroom were in the back. The furniture was old and worn, and the cabin had a musty smell that spoke of a possible mold problem. She waved them toward a brown and yellow sofa then sat herself in a wooden rocker next to an old stove.
Before Regan could make the introductions, Maggie leveled Dan with a steely-eyed gaze. “William tells me your mother died of cancer.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“How old were you? When she died?”
“Uh… twelve.”
“And you’re sure it was cancer? Not something else?”
“Yeah. I’m sure. We didn’t have a lot of money or good insurance so we couldn’t afford any expensive treatments.” Dan gave his uncle a helpless look. Why was she so concerned about how his mom died?
“Where’s your father?”
“He… he, uh, abandoned us when I was a baby. He only recently came back into the picture.”
Maggie snorted softly at that. “She was always a wild one, Kalin. Not surprised she took up with the wrong sort of man.”
Dan felt himself bristling, but managed to hold his temper in check. He didn’t like the insult to his mother, but there was at least the grain of truth in the assessment of his father.
“You should see about investigating your mother’s death. It wouldn’t surprise me at all to find out she’d been poisoned or something. They got to your grandparents. They got to my husband.”
“Ma’am?” Regan’s tone took on a distinct incredulous note. “Got to? They?”
“Neall got involved in something dangerous. He was in way over his head and a lot of people paid the price for it. The police ruled my husband’s death a suicide. Suicide! Ridiculous. You tell me, boy. How does a left-handed man shoot himself in the right side of his head?” Maggie frowned severely. “A few days after he was killed, I got a phone call, warning me to keep quiet. And that’s what I’ve done, all these years.”
“I don’t understand,” Regan said slowly. “Just what was my father involved with that was so dangerous? And he and my mother were killed in a car accident. They weren’t murdered.”
“Humph. A car accident is probably one of the easiest ways to murder someone. Short of shootin’ ‘em. And as for what Neall was up to? I haven’t any idea. That’s the whole kicker. I’ve spent all these years in hiding not because I know anything that could get me killed, but because I don’t, even though someone thinks I do.”
Trixie had a dozen or more questions she wanted very much to ask, but she forced herself to sit still and wait. This was Regan’s aunt. One who, it seemed, was quite possibly insane. She would let him decide how to proceed with the conversation.
“Ma’am, if you’ll forgive me for asking… if you don’t know what my dad was involved with, how do you know it was anything at all?”
“Because the damn fool told me so himself.” Maggie pushed herself out of her chair and crossed the cabin. She opened a cabinet in the kitchen area and reached for a tin on the top shelf. She carried it back to them and handed it Regan. “This is for you. Take it. Neall came to see us and told us if anything happened to him and your mother, he wanted us to take you and your sister in. Raise you and give you this when you were old enough.”
Regan held the tin with clenched fingers. So his father had made some sort of plan for him and Kalin? What had happened, then? How had they ended up at the group home?
“I came home from the store one day and found my Craig dead in his favorite chair. Three days later, I learned your parents were killed. That same day, I got the threatening phone call.”
“So you just abandoned us?” Regan asked, before he could think better of it.
“You were safer that way,” Maggie snapped. “I’d hoped you’d get adopted. New names. New families.”
“Yeah, well, that didn’t happen,” he replied tightly. “We were too old. Most kids over four never get adopted once they’re in the system.”
“I’m sorry.”
The words were spoken softly, and Regan could tell she meant her apology, but he hardly felt mollified. “And this?” He held the tin up for a moment. “Did you ever think to maybe look for us? We only found you because my parents used to work for my boss and he found some old contact information. When were you going to give this to me?”
“Open it.”
Regan snapped off the top. Inside, there were two items. One was a photograph of an unusual gravestone. A carved angel that he thought had to be close to life-size was draped over the marker, head down as if in mourning. He turned it over to see “NYC - Caoilainn” scrawled in a messy handwriting. Baffled, he handed the photo to Dan. “Do you recognize this? It’s got your mother’s name on the back.”
Dan immediately nodded his head. “Yeah. I do recognize it. I haven’t thought of it in years, but it used to give me nightmares… Mom took me to visit it sometimes. I remember her telling me we were related to whoever was buried there, but I can’t remember what the name was on the grave. It was a long time ago and I was pretty young.”
Trixie took the picture and studied it. “Creepy,” she murmured softly. She flipped it over and frowned. “I thought your mom’s name was Caitlin?”
“Kalin,” Dan corrected with a brief smile. “No ‘t’. And that’s the Irish spelling there.”
Regan had picked up the other item from the tin. It was a postcard. From Sleepyside. It was addressed to his mother from his father. The message was short. “I’ve found our new home. We can live out the rest of our days here. A new beginning. Love, Neall.”
“Grandfather was planning to move your family to Sleepyside?” Dan asked as he read the card himself. “What kind of wacky coincidence is that?”
Regan shook his head. He looked back up at Maggie. “I don’t understand. Why would my dad want you to give us this? It makes no sense. A picture and a postcard? Not a letter? Or… or a will? Anything that would actually tell us something about our family?”
“That’s it. He said it was for you and your sister and that was it. Wouldn’t say anything else. I kept the tin all these years, just in case, but I didn’t really think I’d ever find either of you again.”
“It’s hard to find anyone when you aren’t looking.” Regan recognized the rudeness and hostility in his words, but he refused to take them back. His parents had expected Rory and Maggie Regan to take him and his sister in. They hadn’t been completely irresponsible where their children were concerned, as he’d always believed.
“Who says I wasn’t looking?”
“You were?”
“Not immediately. Not for years. Like I said. I thought you were better off, disappearing into the system, away from any ties to your father. A while back… it’s been almost fifteen years now I think, I heard a woman had come to Parson’s Mill, looking for me. I wasn’t here then, though. I’d had a bad fall and broken my hip. Doc Campbell insisted on taking me to Malone. To the hospital. The woman didn’t leave a name or message, but I always wondered if it had been Kalin.”
“You never tried to find out for sure?”
“No. It might’ve been her or it might’ve been someone trying to get information about your father. I figured if it was Kalin, eventually she’d come back. Only she never did. Then last year… just before Christmas, Doc let me know my time is almost up. Got some organs that’re failing.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Eh. I’m old. And tired. I’m ready to go. So, when I got the news and knew there wasn’t much anyone could do to me anymore, I asked an old friend to see if he could find you. Couldn’t find any record of Kalin and all we found out about you was that you’d been in some trouble about ten years back. Something about race horses and drugs. Tom wasn’t sure where you’d gotten to after that, but he told me I oughta quit lookin’, seeing as how you were some kind of crook.”
“He didn’t do it,” Trixie said, her eyes narrowed in a sharp glare. “He was cleared of all charges. He was framed.”
A ghost of a smile flitted across Maggie’s heavily wrinkled face. “That’s good to know. In any case, I figured the chances were small that I’d ever see either you or Kalin again, but I held on to that old tin anyway. I couldn’t bring myself to toss it out.”
Regan looked down at the photo and postcard again. He was thoroughly baffled, and not completely certain his great-aunt wasn’t simply a lunatic making up every word she spoke.
“So. There. You got what your father left you,” Maggie said abruptly. “It’s time for you to go.”
Startled, Regan lifted his eyes to meet hers. “We… had hoped to maybe talk with you some more about our family. I was very young when-“
“I think it would be better if you would leave.”
Trixie stood rather quickly, pasting a patently false smile on her lips. “We wouldn’t want to be any sort of imposition,” she said with a mock-sweetness. “It’s obvious you’re a very busy woman.”
“Uh, we did want to offer to do some shopping for you, if you need,” Regan told her. “We could drive up to-“
“I’ve got a friend who brings me everything I need.”
“Right.” Regan climbed to his feet and exhaled heavily. “In that case, we’ll be going. Thank you. For keeping this for me.” He shook the tin slightly as he spoke.
Maggie nodded once. She crossed the small room to the door and peeked through the curtain window before opening it.
“It was nice meeting you,” Dan said quietly as he stepped outside, feeling like it was an inane thing to say, but not able to come up with anything he thought might sound better. "Can I leave you a phone number where you can reach us?"
"Not necessary." Maggie followed them onto the porch, and Trixie stepped hurriedly to one side before there was a chance of a collision. She was about to move forward again when Maggie stumbled and grabbed her arm in a surprisingly strong grip.
Trixie turned to help the older woman, reaching out her free hand as Maggie leaned closer. “Ma’am? Are you all right?”
“Don’t trust anybody,” Maggie whispered hurriedly. “And always assume you’re being watched and that someone may be listening in on every conversation. Don’t let them come back, girl. You hear? I’m not worried about me anymore, but it’s too dangerous for them. I can only pray no one knows you’re here now, but I wouldn’t count on it. Follow the photograph. That’s all I can tell you. It all starts there.”
Trixie stared at her, not sure how to respond. Maggie straightened and let go of her arm. She walked back into her cabin and shut the door without another word.