Dan sat down at the kitchen table and gratefully accepted the coffee mug Di set down in front of him. “The police are no help,” he grumbled. “I’ve pushed and pushed for them to open an investigation, but they’ve ruled it an accident and closed case.”
“I’m sorry,” she said quietly. “That’s just not right.”
He nodded and slumped in his chair. “The Beldens are at the SPD?”
“Bobby’s upstairs still asleep. And Trish spent the night with a friend from school. The rest have gone to the station this morning to meet with the captain.”
“What’s the latest?”
“From what I understand, somehow Trixie and Regan ‘eluded’ the park ranger who picked them up and they’ve disappeared. No one seems to know where they are exactly now. Presumably still making their way to Telluride as planned, if they haven’t already arrived.”
“I hope we hear from them soon,” Dan muttered. “I’m finding I’m not doing so well with all this ‘not knowing’ crap.”
~~~~~~~~~~
The rusted maroon station wagon that rolled into Granite Quarry’s parking lot raised a few brows and observers wondered if it would perhaps give its last, dying gasp before their eyes. Monica McKenzie watched through the plate-glass windows as a young couple exited the vehicle and approached the store. They stepped inside and looked around in a way that caused her some suspicion. Never, in the sixty-six year history of Granite Quarry had there been an armed robbery, but that didn’t mean there couldn’t be a first time. The couple wore odd, mismatched clothing and the girl had a baseball cap pulled down low on her head. Monica couldn’t even see her hair color, though she suspected it was blond or possibly a light brown color.
They stopped in front of the display of sample gravestones and spoke in hushed whispered. Monica was on the verge of pressing the never-been-used alarm button, when the couple suddenly turned and approached.
“Hi,” the girl said, smiling in a way that only slightly calmed Monica’s nerves. “This is probably gonna sound strange, but we have some questions about a specific one of your samples.”
“Are you looking to have something similar made?”
“No. Um… we’re not trying to waste your time or anything, but there’s a marker that has the name Neall Regan on it. A… friend told us it was here and we came to see it for ourselves. Neall was my grandfather’s name. He came out west before I was born and the family lost track of him. Now we’re trying to hunt him down, but maybe the problem is we never heard from him because he died all the way back in the 70’s? The birthdate is correct, and it just seems like too much of a coincidence, but if he did die, why is that marker here and not at a grave site?”
Monica felt herself relaxing even more. Neither the girl nor the young man with her seemed particularly threatening now that they stood across from her. Their expressions were a combination of apologetic and hopeful. “There is a story that goes with that particular stone,” she said. “It was before my time, but according to the owner, a man came in and ordered it, with very detailed instructions. He paid in full, and then asked us to display it here at the store. He struck a deal with the owner to keep it on display permanently and from what I understand, he paid a tidy sum of money, all in cash, in exchange for that. We’ve always kept it around for the curiosity factor. I mean, who does something like that? It lends us a bit of quirky charm that customers like. I’m afraid that’s all I can tell you, though. We don’t have the name of the man who ordered it or any idea what became of him.”
“Wow. That is… strange,” the girl said, glancing at her companion. “Would you mind if we took a few pictures of it? I don’t know if it will ever help us find granddad, but maybe it could.”
“Knock yourselves out,” Monica said. “And I hope someday you either find your grandfather or at least find out for sure what happened to him.”
~~~~~~~~~~
Trixie snapped on her seatbelt and started the car. “’Mourn me not. It’s the end of the line and I go now to a better place. I go home.’ I think this is our final clue. The fact that the birth date was correct also seems to give weight to that idea, and it was just like we thought. This one was small and plain as they come. Like we’ve reached the end of your dad’s countdown.”
Regan grunted as he peered out the windshield. “So you think the bomb is somewhere around here?”
“No. Not here. I think… I think I need to do some serious thinking. I want to find one of those one-hour photo places and get my pictures developed. Somewhere in what we’ve already found, there has to be a solution to the entire puzzle. Something that tells us where the bomb actually is. I just hope we can figure it out.”
~~~~~~~~~~
Trixie wearily rubbed her eyes and wondered if she should reconsider her general policy of avoiding coffee. True, she didn’t like the taste, but there was some merit in the caffeine jolt it provided. She stared at her photographs, knowing the answer had to be there. Somewhere.
She opened the desk’s only drawer and found a small tablet and pen advertising the hotel chain where they’d taken yet another room. She wrote down a few ideas, frowned, and scratched through them. After a long moment of thought, she began writing again.
Regan returned to the room about half an hour later, carrying a paper sack with McDonald’s burgers and fries. “It was all I could find in the area,” he said apologetically.
She waved one hand dismissively. “It’s all right. It’s better than nothing and I’m so hungry, even that smells good.”
He nodded to the crumpled papers that littered the floor around her chair. “Did you come up with anything?”
“Actually, I did. Not that it makes any sense. I’m going to say a word to you and I want you to tell me the first thing that pops in your head. Don’t even think about it. If I’m right, this is something your father thought would mean something to you and I don’t want you to second guess yourself.”
“O…kay. Fire when ready.”
“Shortstop.”
“Shortstop was the name of my dog when I was little.”
“Short – wait. Seriously? You named your dog ‘Shortstop?’”
“Well, we usually called him ‘Shorty,’ but yeah, his real name was Shortstop. He was a mutt we rescued from the pound.”
“Shortstop?” It was clear she was still waiting for further explanation.
“I liked baseball. One of my earliest memories is playing catch with my dad.”
“Which might explain your remarkably good aim.”
Regan pulled the burgers from the bag and set them down on the table next to her. “What’s this about, Wildcat? What does Shortstop have to do with anything?”
“You tell me. What happened to him?”
“He died when I was five. My dad took me and my sister out to the country and we buried him under a tree near a lake. I remember trying so hard not to cry because I thought that meant I was a sissy.”
Trixie picked up a piece of paper and held it out to him. “This is why I think Shortstop is important. I’ve been trying and trying to understand why your dad made us go all over the country for no apparent reason. I think it was to spell out your dog’s name.”
“Huh?”
“Look at the first letters. Sleepyside On The Hudson. Philadelphia. Owensboro. Saint Rose. Telluride. S-O-T-H-P-O-S-R-T. Rearrange them and you get ‘Shortstop.’”
“You’re forgetting the very first marker, though. The angel one in New York.”
“No. I think that’s part of the puzzle. The clue is ‘Shortstop – New York.’ Your dad buried the bomb back in New York, where you buried your dog. Think about it. It makes sense. He couldn’t have been carting this thing all across the country with him. He hid it first, then went about setting up this insane hunt. He believed you and your sister would be able to figure this all out and when you put together the name ‘Shortstop,’ you’d know where to go. And as an added clue, the last epitaph said ‘I go home.’ Home. New York.”
Regan raked both hands throw his hair and huffed out a short breath. “If you’re right, baby, and I’m willing to bet you are, then we have a very big problem. I don’t have the faintest idea where we buried my dog. I was five! Kalin would probably have remembered, but obviously my dad didn’t count on her dying. And I guess maybe Maggie might’ve been able to tell us, if they hadn’t gotten to her. This is worse than Dan not remembering where to find the first grave site, because unlike him, I don’t have anyone I could ask.”
“All right. Not good. True. But maybe we could figure it out anyway,” she said, trying to stave off a sense of hopelessness. “Let’s think. You went out to the country. Do you think your dad would’ve buried Shortstop illegally on someone else’s property?”
“I’d like to say ‘no,’ here, but then, it turns out my father was the kind of man who would steal a nuclear bomb, so….” He trailed off with a small shrug. “I can say that even though my memories are hazy, I don’t think he was afraid we were going to get caught or something. He wasn’t secretive about it. It wasn’t under the cover of darkness. And we left a wooden cross to mark the spot.”
“How about how you got there? Did you drive? Take a train? Do you have any rough guesses about how long it took to get there? Under an hour? More than four hours?”
“Whoa. Slow down, Wildcat. Uh… we drove. I don’t think we woulda been able to carry the body of a dead dog onto public transportation. It… it was a bit of a drive, I think. I remember we stopped for ice cream on the way home. Somewhere near to where we buried him. I can’t remember the name of the diner at all. I just remember a long counter and sitting on a stack of phone books and eating ice cream out of a glass bowl.”
“Okay. See? We’re starting to narrow things down. Can you describe the property in any more detail? What do you remember about it? Were there any buildings nearby? A house, maybe?”
“I… no. I don’t remember a house of any kind. There was a field. Grass. It wasn’t a yard, or if it was, it was a really big one. There was just the one tree, and then the lake.” He fell silent, trying to dredge up any memory possible.
“Was there a dock on the lake?” Trixie asked. “Like a small fishing pier?”
He blinked and frowned. “Yeah. There was. I’d forgotten all about that. Kalin picked some wildflowers and dropped them into the water off the dock and I remember standing there for a long time, watching them float away. The sun was really bright and it reflected off the water and hurt my eyes. I… I can remember looking between two beams on the railing, because I wasn’t tall enough to see over the top.”
“You know, all things considered, you really have an excellent memory.”
“Of some things. This, probably because it was so traumatic. I was devastated when Shortstop died.”
“Well, I don’t know exactly where this property is, but I might know a way of finding out.”
“Please don’t say anything resembling ‘hypnosis’ or ‘regression therapy,’ baby.”
Trixie chuckled softly and shook her head. “Very funny. No. The reason I asked you about the dock is because there was a picture on Maggie’s mantle. Did you notice it when we were there?”
“Not particularly, no.”
“It was of her when she was younger and a man I’m assuming was her husband. They were standing by a tree and there was a lake with a small pier in the background. Maybe this was the same place? What if it was property they owned somewhere?”
“If it was, and it was sold off a long time ago, it might take considerable time to track down the records. More time than we have.”
“What if we got a hold of the picture? Maybe there’s a place name written on the back? I know Aunt Alicia always insists on dating and labeling every picture, including the names of anyone in them. Maggie was from the same generation and I think that was a pretty common practice for them.”
“It’s always worth a shot,” Regan said slowly, “though it might be dangerous to go back to Maggie’s house. It’s probably still being watched.”
“And it’s probably been thoroughly searched, too. What if we asked Eric to retrieve the picture? Stealth mode is one of his default settings. He could go to Parson’s Mill and meanwhile, we need to get back to New York as fast as possible. If the car can make it, I think we should push through. One of us can be driving and the other can sleep in the back. I – I don’t think I’m willing to try flying again.”
~~~~~~~~~~
Regan struggled to a sitting position and rubbed a hand across his chin, conscious of his need for a shave. He looked out the window to see that Trixie had guided the car off the interstate and was pulling into a rest area.
“There’s a pay phone here,” she told him when she realized he was awake. “At least according to the sign we passed a quarter mile back. I’m gonna use the calling card and try to reach Eric. If anyone has a secure phone that’s not tapped, it would be him, I think.”
“What time is it?” he asked, lifting his hand to cover a yawn.
“Hmm? A little after three.”
“Three ‘o clock? Wildcat, you’ve been driving non-stop for almost five hours.”
“Yeah. I know. I thought we’d picked up another tail for awhile, so I didn’t want to pull over anywhere, but that car’s gone now. We can make a pit stop here and make the call, but we’re also gonna need to find an all-night gas station soon.”
“And then I’ll take over the driving,” he said firmly.
“Are you sure you got enough sleep?”
“I’m fine. I just need to stretch my legs for a few minutes and visit the restroom and I’ll be ready to go.”
~~~~~~~~~~
“I don’t understand why she only called Eric,” Helen said fretfully, glancing out the kitchen window at the hazy sunrise. “Why couldn’t she call us, too?”
“She’s very concerned about security,” Matthew explained. “After the plane was sabotaged, she believes my phones have been compromised and quite possibly someone within Wheeler Industries is some sort of spy. I’m sorry to say I agree with her. I’ll be bringing in an independent agency to investigate. Meanwhile, Eric has gone to do something to help them. No. I don’t know what. It was agreed that the less people who knew, the better. All I can say for sure is, they believe they’re close to finding the bomb and that they need a lot of people to be ready to go at a moment’s notice. I’ll be coordinating that with Captain Rand and Agent Kobayashi, to ensure no expense is spared and no red tape gets in the way.”
“Thank you,” Peter said sincerely. “We do know the lengths you’ve gone to for Trixie. And Regan. And we deeply appreciate it.”
“I’m sorry,” she said quietly. “That’s just not right.”
He nodded and slumped in his chair. “The Beldens are at the SPD?”
“Bobby’s upstairs still asleep. And Trish spent the night with a friend from school. The rest have gone to the station this morning to meet with the captain.”
“What’s the latest?”
“From what I understand, somehow Trixie and Regan ‘eluded’ the park ranger who picked them up and they’ve disappeared. No one seems to know where they are exactly now. Presumably still making their way to Telluride as planned, if they haven’t already arrived.”
“I hope we hear from them soon,” Dan muttered. “I’m finding I’m not doing so well with all this ‘not knowing’ crap.”
~~~~~~~~~~
The rusted maroon station wagon that rolled into Granite Quarry’s parking lot raised a few brows and observers wondered if it would perhaps give its last, dying gasp before their eyes. Monica McKenzie watched through the plate-glass windows as a young couple exited the vehicle and approached the store. They stepped inside and looked around in a way that caused her some suspicion. Never, in the sixty-six year history of Granite Quarry had there been an armed robbery, but that didn’t mean there couldn’t be a first time. The couple wore odd, mismatched clothing and the girl had a baseball cap pulled down low on her head. Monica couldn’t even see her hair color, though she suspected it was blond or possibly a light brown color.
They stopped in front of the display of sample gravestones and spoke in hushed whispered. Monica was on the verge of pressing the never-been-used alarm button, when the couple suddenly turned and approached.
“Hi,” the girl said, smiling in a way that only slightly calmed Monica’s nerves. “This is probably gonna sound strange, but we have some questions about a specific one of your samples.”
“Are you looking to have something similar made?”
“No. Um… we’re not trying to waste your time or anything, but there’s a marker that has the name Neall Regan on it. A… friend told us it was here and we came to see it for ourselves. Neall was my grandfather’s name. He came out west before I was born and the family lost track of him. Now we’re trying to hunt him down, but maybe the problem is we never heard from him because he died all the way back in the 70’s? The birthdate is correct, and it just seems like too much of a coincidence, but if he did die, why is that marker here and not at a grave site?”
Monica felt herself relaxing even more. Neither the girl nor the young man with her seemed particularly threatening now that they stood across from her. Their expressions were a combination of apologetic and hopeful. “There is a story that goes with that particular stone,” she said. “It was before my time, but according to the owner, a man came in and ordered it, with very detailed instructions. He paid in full, and then asked us to display it here at the store. He struck a deal with the owner to keep it on display permanently and from what I understand, he paid a tidy sum of money, all in cash, in exchange for that. We’ve always kept it around for the curiosity factor. I mean, who does something like that? It lends us a bit of quirky charm that customers like. I’m afraid that’s all I can tell you, though. We don’t have the name of the man who ordered it or any idea what became of him.”
“Wow. That is… strange,” the girl said, glancing at her companion. “Would you mind if we took a few pictures of it? I don’t know if it will ever help us find granddad, but maybe it could.”
“Knock yourselves out,” Monica said. “And I hope someday you either find your grandfather or at least find out for sure what happened to him.”
~~~~~~~~~~
Trixie snapped on her seatbelt and started the car. “’Mourn me not. It’s the end of the line and I go now to a better place. I go home.’ I think this is our final clue. The fact that the birth date was correct also seems to give weight to that idea, and it was just like we thought. This one was small and plain as they come. Like we’ve reached the end of your dad’s countdown.”
Regan grunted as he peered out the windshield. “So you think the bomb is somewhere around here?”
“No. Not here. I think… I think I need to do some serious thinking. I want to find one of those one-hour photo places and get my pictures developed. Somewhere in what we’ve already found, there has to be a solution to the entire puzzle. Something that tells us where the bomb actually is. I just hope we can figure it out.”
~~~~~~~~~~
Trixie wearily rubbed her eyes and wondered if she should reconsider her general policy of avoiding coffee. True, she didn’t like the taste, but there was some merit in the caffeine jolt it provided. She stared at her photographs, knowing the answer had to be there. Somewhere.
She opened the desk’s only drawer and found a small tablet and pen advertising the hotel chain where they’d taken yet another room. She wrote down a few ideas, frowned, and scratched through them. After a long moment of thought, she began writing again.
Regan returned to the room about half an hour later, carrying a paper sack with McDonald’s burgers and fries. “It was all I could find in the area,” he said apologetically.
She waved one hand dismissively. “It’s all right. It’s better than nothing and I’m so hungry, even that smells good.”
He nodded to the crumpled papers that littered the floor around her chair. “Did you come up with anything?”
“Actually, I did. Not that it makes any sense. I’m going to say a word to you and I want you to tell me the first thing that pops in your head. Don’t even think about it. If I’m right, this is something your father thought would mean something to you and I don’t want you to second guess yourself.”
“O…kay. Fire when ready.”
“Shortstop.”
“Shortstop was the name of my dog when I was little.”
“Short – wait. Seriously? You named your dog ‘Shortstop?’”
“Well, we usually called him ‘Shorty,’ but yeah, his real name was Shortstop. He was a mutt we rescued from the pound.”
“Shortstop?” It was clear she was still waiting for further explanation.
“I liked baseball. One of my earliest memories is playing catch with my dad.”
“Which might explain your remarkably good aim.”
Regan pulled the burgers from the bag and set them down on the table next to her. “What’s this about, Wildcat? What does Shortstop have to do with anything?”
“You tell me. What happened to him?”
“He died when I was five. My dad took me and my sister out to the country and we buried him under a tree near a lake. I remember trying so hard not to cry because I thought that meant I was a sissy.”
Trixie picked up a piece of paper and held it out to him. “This is why I think Shortstop is important. I’ve been trying and trying to understand why your dad made us go all over the country for no apparent reason. I think it was to spell out your dog’s name.”
“Huh?”
“Look at the first letters. Sleepyside On The Hudson. Philadelphia. Owensboro. Saint Rose. Telluride. S-O-T-H-P-O-S-R-T. Rearrange them and you get ‘Shortstop.’”
“You’re forgetting the very first marker, though. The angel one in New York.”
“No. I think that’s part of the puzzle. The clue is ‘Shortstop – New York.’ Your dad buried the bomb back in New York, where you buried your dog. Think about it. It makes sense. He couldn’t have been carting this thing all across the country with him. He hid it first, then went about setting up this insane hunt. He believed you and your sister would be able to figure this all out and when you put together the name ‘Shortstop,’ you’d know where to go. And as an added clue, the last epitaph said ‘I go home.’ Home. New York.”
Regan raked both hands throw his hair and huffed out a short breath. “If you’re right, baby, and I’m willing to bet you are, then we have a very big problem. I don’t have the faintest idea where we buried my dog. I was five! Kalin would probably have remembered, but obviously my dad didn’t count on her dying. And I guess maybe Maggie might’ve been able to tell us, if they hadn’t gotten to her. This is worse than Dan not remembering where to find the first grave site, because unlike him, I don’t have anyone I could ask.”
“All right. Not good. True. But maybe we could figure it out anyway,” she said, trying to stave off a sense of hopelessness. “Let’s think. You went out to the country. Do you think your dad would’ve buried Shortstop illegally on someone else’s property?”
“I’d like to say ‘no,’ here, but then, it turns out my father was the kind of man who would steal a nuclear bomb, so….” He trailed off with a small shrug. “I can say that even though my memories are hazy, I don’t think he was afraid we were going to get caught or something. He wasn’t secretive about it. It wasn’t under the cover of darkness. And we left a wooden cross to mark the spot.”
“How about how you got there? Did you drive? Take a train? Do you have any rough guesses about how long it took to get there? Under an hour? More than four hours?”
“Whoa. Slow down, Wildcat. Uh… we drove. I don’t think we woulda been able to carry the body of a dead dog onto public transportation. It… it was a bit of a drive, I think. I remember we stopped for ice cream on the way home. Somewhere near to where we buried him. I can’t remember the name of the diner at all. I just remember a long counter and sitting on a stack of phone books and eating ice cream out of a glass bowl.”
“Okay. See? We’re starting to narrow things down. Can you describe the property in any more detail? What do you remember about it? Were there any buildings nearby? A house, maybe?”
“I… no. I don’t remember a house of any kind. There was a field. Grass. It wasn’t a yard, or if it was, it was a really big one. There was just the one tree, and then the lake.” He fell silent, trying to dredge up any memory possible.
“Was there a dock on the lake?” Trixie asked. “Like a small fishing pier?”
He blinked and frowned. “Yeah. There was. I’d forgotten all about that. Kalin picked some wildflowers and dropped them into the water off the dock and I remember standing there for a long time, watching them float away. The sun was really bright and it reflected off the water and hurt my eyes. I… I can remember looking between two beams on the railing, because I wasn’t tall enough to see over the top.”
“You know, all things considered, you really have an excellent memory.”
“Of some things. This, probably because it was so traumatic. I was devastated when Shortstop died.”
“Well, I don’t know exactly where this property is, but I might know a way of finding out.”
“Please don’t say anything resembling ‘hypnosis’ or ‘regression therapy,’ baby.”
Trixie chuckled softly and shook her head. “Very funny. No. The reason I asked you about the dock is because there was a picture on Maggie’s mantle. Did you notice it when we were there?”
“Not particularly, no.”
“It was of her when she was younger and a man I’m assuming was her husband. They were standing by a tree and there was a lake with a small pier in the background. Maybe this was the same place? What if it was property they owned somewhere?”
“If it was, and it was sold off a long time ago, it might take considerable time to track down the records. More time than we have.”
“What if we got a hold of the picture? Maybe there’s a place name written on the back? I know Aunt Alicia always insists on dating and labeling every picture, including the names of anyone in them. Maggie was from the same generation and I think that was a pretty common practice for them.”
“It’s always worth a shot,” Regan said slowly, “though it might be dangerous to go back to Maggie’s house. It’s probably still being watched.”
“And it’s probably been thoroughly searched, too. What if we asked Eric to retrieve the picture? Stealth mode is one of his default settings. He could go to Parson’s Mill and meanwhile, we need to get back to New York as fast as possible. If the car can make it, I think we should push through. One of us can be driving and the other can sleep in the back. I – I don’t think I’m willing to try flying again.”
~~~~~~~~~~
Regan struggled to a sitting position and rubbed a hand across his chin, conscious of his need for a shave. He looked out the window to see that Trixie had guided the car off the interstate and was pulling into a rest area.
“There’s a pay phone here,” she told him when she realized he was awake. “At least according to the sign we passed a quarter mile back. I’m gonna use the calling card and try to reach Eric. If anyone has a secure phone that’s not tapped, it would be him, I think.”
“What time is it?” he asked, lifting his hand to cover a yawn.
“Hmm? A little after three.”
“Three ‘o clock? Wildcat, you’ve been driving non-stop for almost five hours.”
“Yeah. I know. I thought we’d picked up another tail for awhile, so I didn’t want to pull over anywhere, but that car’s gone now. We can make a pit stop here and make the call, but we’re also gonna need to find an all-night gas station soon.”
“And then I’ll take over the driving,” he said firmly.
“Are you sure you got enough sleep?”
“I’m fine. I just need to stretch my legs for a few minutes and visit the restroom and I’ll be ready to go.”
~~~~~~~~~~
“I don’t understand why she only called Eric,” Helen said fretfully, glancing out the kitchen window at the hazy sunrise. “Why couldn’t she call us, too?”
“She’s very concerned about security,” Matthew explained. “After the plane was sabotaged, she believes my phones have been compromised and quite possibly someone within Wheeler Industries is some sort of spy. I’m sorry to say I agree with her. I’ll be bringing in an independent agency to investigate. Meanwhile, Eric has gone to do something to help them. No. I don’t know what. It was agreed that the less people who knew, the better. All I can say for sure is, they believe they’re close to finding the bomb and that they need a lot of people to be ready to go at a moment’s notice. I’ll be coordinating that with Captain Rand and Agent Kobayashi, to ensure no expense is spared and no red tape gets in the way.”
“Thank you,” Peter said sincerely. “We do know the lengths you’ve gone to for Trixie. And Regan. And we deeply appreciate it.”