Dead To Life E-Book

Mary Deal

• Herausgeber: Next Chapter
• Kategorie: Krimi
• Sprache: Englisch

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2022

Beschreibung

Sara Mason and love interest, Huxley Keane, follow a trail of clues in an attempt to match a bullet-scarred key found in the Vietnam jungle.

An apartment key was given to Rocky, Huxley's brother, by his fiancée. If sweet Emma Ellis kept a matching key all these years, it would prove Rocky is not MIA, but deceased.

Tracing Emma proves to be a perilous escapade; she doesn't wish to be found and attempts to stop Sara and Huxley, whose very lives are threatened. In separate incidences, both Sara and Huxley are left to die of their wounds. And when they finally catch her, horrifying truths about the woman send their sensibilities reeling.

Leseprobe

Dead to Life

Sara Mason Mysteries Book 3

Mary Deal

Copyright (C) 2020 Mary Deal

Layout design and Copyright (C) 2020 by Next Chapter

Published 2020 by Next Chapter

Cover art by Cover Mint

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without the author's permission.

Titles by Mary Deal

Fiction

The Ka, a paranormal Egyptian suspense

River Bones, Sara Mason Mysteries Book One

The Howling Cliffs, Sara Mason Mysteries Book Two

Dead to Life, Sara Mason Mysteries Book Three

Legacy of the Tropics, adventure/suspense

Down to the Needle, a thriller

Sea Cliff, a contemporary romance

Collections

Off Center in the Attic, 30 Short stories

Nonfiction

Write It Right – Tips for Authors

Hypno-Scripts: Life-Changing Techniques Using Self-Hypnosis and Meditation

Dedicated to people and groups everywhere who continue to search for MIAs.

Acknowledgements

It takes more than one author writing a book to get it published. I'd like to thank some people who've made publication of Dead to Life, Sara Mason Mysteries Book Three, possible.

First, I am fortunate to have three Award-winning, Amazon best-selling authors as beta readers. In alpha order only, they are:

James J. Cudney, IV

Ken Farmer

Brian L. Porter

I am also thankful for Miika Hannila and the team at Next Chapter for republishing all my books. The work they do for authors, both up front and behind the scenes, is amazing.

Finally, I wish to thank Michelle Masterfano, Koel Maruame, and Brian and Juliet Porter, for their welcomed participation in the story.

Chapter 1

Death threats and attempts on her life were not something Sara Mason anticipated when charging into her new career of solving cold cases. Two of her past cases made her wary. She needed to be. The cases involved violent serial killers who set their sights on her when they suspected she was on to them.

The deadbolts were locked on the entry doors of her home. The noise from outside was a caution. Someone had driven down off the levee and onto her gravel driveway, but she heard nothing more. Silence had become one of the best warning signals she knew.

Must be someone using my driveway to turn around.

The Sacramento River Delta levee roads, two narrow lanes and sometimes just one, left no room for turning to reverse directions. In many places, there were no soft shoulders. The asphalt was laid to the levee edges to widen the lanes. It was fairly common for a driver to pull into a random driveway. Deltans knew and understood why, but by now, she should have heard gravel crunch as the driver returned to the levee.

One of the past cases involving murder victims' remains found on and near her property in Courtland, California made Sara alert to many things people took for granted. She was instrumental in capturing the Delta serial killer, almost at the cost of her life as she acted as the Sheriff's decoy.

She had returned to her childhood hometown to fulfill a lifelong dream of owning a Victorian home along the Sacramento River. When she learned of the serial killer, and that he had his sights set on her, it forced her into a whole new awareness for safety. Serial killer profilers had difficulty pin-pointing a Modus-operandi. He didn't stick to one type of person to victimize. Not tall slender blue-eyed blondes like her. Not model-type dark-eyed brunettes like her cherished friend, Daphine Whelan. Not prostitutes, nor young or old women. His victims included men too.

Not until after his capture, did they learn that this psychopath victimized anyone he thought had wronged him, including his parents, as was later learned. Sara had resisted his advances when they first casually met and that ticked him off. That case is what drew Sara and Huxley Keane into an all-encompassing love for one another. After becoming involved in solving cold cases created by this killer, Sara and Huxley joined forces to search for missing persons.

During three Spring seasons, Sara accompanied Huxley and a team of Veterans on an MIA search in the Vietnam jungle. His brother, Rocky, was among the missing, as was Betty, the daughter of their mutual friend, Esmerelda Talbot. Much younger and stronger, Huxley was both motivation and a morale booster for the older veterans. During the last trip when Sara went along, a couple of years earlier, more meager remains were found. Huxley had returned to the States to get them identified.

Before returning to the states, Sara stopped for a rest on Kauai where she nearly fell into the purchase of a second home. There she became involved in a new cold case of a missing six-year-old girl. Twice there, she narrowly lost her life to the killer. The one person no one suspected. Those experiences proved that killers can be close by. It was a hard lesson about taking proper precautions and about keenly protecting herself.

I hope I never again come that close to dying.

She listened for other sounds in the driveway. The silence sent a warning stream of adrenaline through her system.

More recently, while Huxley was in Oregon spending time with his family, she had worked a couple of missing teenager cases in the Sacramento suburbs. Those cases hadn't been threatening in any way. She wondered why teens ran away so much in these modern times. The teenagers were returned home. The emotional reward helped restore Sara's desire to get involved in a new search. Huxley suggested one. This new case involved finding a person close to family.

Sara listened, keen to every tiny noise. No other sounds came from the driveway. Past experiences stayed fresh in her mind and drove home the value of life.

The windows in her monstrous house were locked with some simply made not to open. She also had a state-of-the-art alarm system installed back when she was being stalked. She was glad no stranger could easily get inside the house.

She was upstairs in Daphine's art studio in the spacious attic of her refurbished old Victorian. She had been cleaning up after installing a dedicated heating and cooling system for Daphine's comfort. It was a busy morning, but she had lots she could accomplish on the property before this day was over.

At night, she stayed indoors most of the time unless with friends. Night-time was when activity ceased at her property and provided uninterrupted time to create her DVD games for children, which continued to produce copious amounts of income.

The rural levee roads along the Sacramento River were not lit with streetlights the way major streets were illuminated in most small local towns. The closest neighbor was nearly half a mile away. Daphine and her art gallery activities taking place at the house helped Sara feel secure. After the big Victorian was refurbished and livable, Sara installed a spa and a 20x60 foot swimming pool which was used by local community groups teaching children to swim.

Sara patiently listened for other sounds but heard only passing traffic on the levee in front of her home. Ranchers and crop hauling trucks made use of every passable farm road. During summer and fall, the river levees were normally glutted with trucks and vehicles hauling freshly picked produce and fruit. Pleasure-seekers towed boats to and from launching ramps. Pockets of diesel fumes hung in the air everywhere. Asphalt pavements melted and sizzled and sent up dancing waves of heat. Crop picking and harvesting was now well underway and would proceed into October. It was a scorching July that sometimes made it difficult breathing.

Unfamiliar faces were everywhere, either working the crops or enjoying water sports on the river. The interior Delta farmlands from Sacramento in the north to southern California were crawling with migrant workers. Still others preferred not to work but to wreak havoc in people's lives. Their criminal activities took advantage of the influx of newcomers to hide among and victimize. The crime rate rose dramatically during the summer months.

Sara listened. The person using her driveway hadn't left.

Better sneak a look… hope that's not another prowler casing my place… and in broad daylight too.

Chapter 2

Out in the driveway, a car door slammed suddenly. The hair on the nape of her neck stood up. Sara eased down the stairs, bypassing the second floor, and quietly waited at the landing above the next staircase. It would lead down into the dining room just off the kitchen.

Someone opened the screen door off the back porch and fumbled with the door lock. Sara's heart raced. She didn't need to deal with yet another prowler. Did she have time to run to her bedroom and get her gun? Her bedroom was right over the kitchen. Someone breaking into the porch then entering the kitchen might hear her above them.

The screen door flapped shut as the porch door opened. She heard nothing more. Who had made entry? Tripp Unwin, the serial killer who left bodies throughout Sacramento and the Delta, including her property, was the only person she knew who could pick a lock that easily. Surely, he couldn't be out of prison… or escaped? Having admitted to over thirty murders, he should have received the sentence of lethal injection, but California had long ago stopped the death penalty.

She touched the cell phone hanging on her waistband. She would go back into the attic and bolt the door and call 911. She heard only silence. Just as she turned to climb back up into the attic, the door between the porch and kitchen opened.

“Sara! Sara! Where are you?”

She expelled a forceful breath and nearly collapsed from relief. He must have paused on the back porch to check the alarm system in case he needed to disarm it before it sounded. She had left the alarm system off this morning since the contractor needed to come in and out. She quickly descended the staircase and met him at the bottom.

“Hux! You told me you'd be here tomorrow.”

“Got away early.” His smile beamed. His blue-topaz eyes held their constant sparkle. How could he look so fresh after the flight from his home in Oregon? His dark hair was mussed. He preferred fresh air, regardless of the heat, and always drove with the windows down.

Huxley could wear everyday clothes and still look like a model. His checkered teal and orange flannel shirt over a teal T-shirt fit in with the local faded vibe. So did his light brown Urban Shepherd boots and denim jeans rolled at the ankles. Then how he could re-invent himself with a suit and tie was amazing. A man for all seasons. Just a tall, broad-shouldered, better than average looking guy, with eyes that made her melt.

She finally calmed. “You're not driving your truck.” He looked at her curiously and waited for her explanation. “I always recognize the sound of your pickup, the door slam, too, but something's different.”

He dropped a 12x12x8 inch sealed cardboard box with airlines carry-on tags onto the little breakfast table that stood in the middle of the kitchen. He shed the flannel shirt and hung it on the back of a chair, then smiled and nodded as if pleased she noticed. Noticing such small details was critical in the cold case searches that they investigated.

“Had a blow out. My cell is dead. Left my truck in Elk Grove and got a loaner.” He thumbed toward the outside.

“Elk Grove? That's a short drive up the road. You could have borrowed a phone. I'd have picked you up.”

He feigned disappointment at the scolding as they stood beside the table. “Sorry… wanted to surprise you.”

“Ha! You did!”

They stood smiling at each other. Then they rushed into a tight embrace. Sara raised up on tiptoes as the six-foot Huxley took her into his strong arms. He was muscular and Sara always felt safe when he wrapped her in his arms. They kissed lovingly.

“Missed you. Couldn't get here fast enough.” He breathed deeply.

Sara always put on a spritz of her favorite Balahe perfume every morning, no matter what. Huxley reveled in the scent of it. Somehow a tantalizing scent seemed to seal their wants during hugs.

The tire problem was unexpected, but for Huxley to allow his cell phone power to run down was unheard of. Usually, he was astute about everything. Yet, recent developments, or lack thereof, in the search for his MIA brother's remains was pulling his thoughts in too many directions.

Sara pointed at the box. “The letters… from your mom?”

“Many letters.” He sighed and sank into a chair. “And some photos.”

“You open. I'll make coffee.”

“Not on your life.” He took his hands away from the box. “Make the coffee. We'll open together.”

She pulled a coffee can out of the cabinet. Huxley was tough about a lot of things, but the thought of reading old letters from his long-missing brother left him feeling helpless. He needed her at his side. She loved him. She would be there for him, wherever this current search took them, no matter what they might find.

The coffee made and hot mugs sitting on the table, Sara produced a knife to open the package. Huxley slit the strapping tape on the box and laid the knife aside. He didn't open the flaps right away. He sat with his hands clasped flat together and pressed them against his lips. Information in this box would provide some of the most defining clues leading to verifying the key found in the Vietnam jungle. He believed the key belonged to his brother, Rocky.

Sara had not accompanied him and the veterans on their most recent trek through the jungle. Huxley's purpose for that trip was to receive the key. Then he had been taken to a suspected remains area the team had not known about till that time.

The key and letters were much discussed by Huxley and his family, as Huxley previously related to Sara. Rocky's fiancée, Emma Ellis, had given him the key to the apartment she shared with her sister, Evelyn. In case he should return to San Francisco unexpectedly, he would have a place to stay.

Chapter 3

For years, Huxley and a search party of veterans had scoured an overgrown trail and peripheral areas for remains of the Navy nurses. They were forced by the Viet Cong to hike through the jungle. The group was kidnapped outside the NSA Hospital in Da Nang in 1972. Rocky, one of the nurses, was reported missing in August.

Sara and their mutual friend, Esmerelda Talbot, had been allowed to join Huxley and the veterans on several of the searches. During Sara and Esmerelda's last trip, the remains of Esmerelda's Navy nurse daughter, Betty, had been located and returned to her.

This, especially, deepened Huxley's desperate longing to find his brother. His strain and disappointment lurked under the surface of the facade of motivation. He had been the one to present Esmerelda with her daughter's remains. It wasn't only because they were close friends. It was because Huxley needed the feeling of completion, the experience of being rewarded for years of trekking through that desolate poisoned jungle. If he couldn't present his parents with his brother's remains, presenting Esmerelda with her daughter's remains helped him feel the release that came with knowing her search was over.

Then Huxley learned of a young Hmong boy in a jungle village. He wore a key on a string around his neck. His aging uncle gave it to him and told him that someone may come looking for the key. He was to give it to them because it belonged to them.

Huxley's veteran search team was invited to join JPAC out of Tripler Army Medical Center in Honolulu. Instead of following the former trails the veteran's team searched, a separate JPAC group would scour that area again. Another JPAC group, including Huxley and several of the veterans, broke away and went directly north to the area where the key was found. There they searched for additional remains.

They learned that the young Hmong boy's uncle who found the key had long since passed away. He had, however, taken the boy to the spot where the key was found. The boy, now a grown man still wearing the key, then led the team to an overgrown spot far north along the disappearing trail. Forest detritus nearly hid the pathway, but the narrow footpath was being used again by the local Montenyards, the Hmong people of the jungle. Some were daring to return to their jungle homes even though, after nearly fifty years, the ground was still contaminated with Agent Orange.

As with the previous searches, former Honolulu policeman turned forensic dog trainer, Thanh Van Thuy and his two German shepherds, Iwi and Laka, accompanied the search party. The search was made over a wide area away from the path because of the location of the key off the trail. Rocky may have made a run for it. Maybe he hadn't, but they needed to assure no remains were missed.

Huxley unclasped his hands, looked up suddenly, and found Sara eying him lovingly. “I'm alright.” Yet, his expression was distressed. “Was just remembering what it was like being in the area where Rocky may have died. Trying to feel what may have happened to him.”

Sara took his hands in hers. “Like Esmerelda digging in the dirt, trying to find more of those gold chain links, or the other half of the dog tag.”

“And not knowing till later that she was sitting on the very spot where her daughter died. Those few bits we found were her daughter's only remains.” Huxley seemed to cave in momentarily. Finding remains and identifying them seemed the only event that could test his emotions. He straightened in his chair. “Maybe I walked on the same spot on this earth where my brother met his end.” He shook his head as if denial might make Rocky's death untrue. Huxley's blue-topaz eyes held a distant look.

Sara waited, knowing she needed to allow him to talk, to voice his feelings and frustrations. “Is there a chance they could find more?”

“If this key matched, if it belonged to Rocky, I'd like to go back to the spot where he died, just sit there a while. And… maybe I could do something for those Hmong people who protected this key all those years.”

Sara hurt for him. “We have to verify the key first.” She knew it was a long shot. So did Huxley. Rocky was listed as an MIA in 1972. Tracing Emma Ellis over the decades seemed futile.

Huxley motioned to the box. “You ready for this?”

She nodded, sat, and drew her chair alongside him. As she got to know him, when he felt uncertain, she noticed he liked to feel her close to him. Now she moved her leg to touch his and left it there. She slipped out of a shoe and placed her bare foot on top of his shoe. She loved Huxley with all her heart and had cried with him over his missing brother. His elderly parents needed to know their son's whereabouts or receive something of his remains before they, too, passed away.

Huxley reached for his wallet and removed the old silver key. He ran a thumb over it and finally laid it on the tabletop. The groove the bullet made told a harrowing story of its own.

The key was a Yale 1960s apartment key with a manufactured hole in the round head. It also contained what was judged to be the markings of a bullet that had hit the key and ricocheted. It could mean that Rocky had been shot and the bullet ricocheted off the key and possibly hit his heart or lungs.

According to Palmer Dane, a Marine accidently nabbed with the Navy nurses and who later escaped, the Viet Cong used AK-47s, 7.62x39mm, which were made in Russia. Since the key was found in the ground a few feet off the trail, Rocky may have run but was shot while escaping. Whether shot from close range or running, Rocky never knew what hit him. Unless his killer faced him or stood nearby, he may have seen it coming. If the bullet ricocheted as was thought, Rocky didn't have a chance.

Huxley was only eight years old when Rocky went into the Navy in 1970, ten years old when Rocky went missing in 1972. Once grown and committed to the searches, Huxley had a lot to learn.

“JPAC hasn't sent word of any new findings so far, but they're still out on this year's trip. I hope they don't make this their last trip for our group.” He took a breath and expelled it in frustration. “Emma may be our only chance to verify this key belonged to Rocky.” His gaze became pensive again. “If we find the match, then we can assume my brother died in that forlorn jungle, even if they don't find dog tags or bone fragments in that acidic soil.”

He had run ads in the San Francisco newspapers, continued to scour the Internet, Facebook, Twitter, and numerous other sites to find Emma or her sister, Evelyn, but to no avail. Despite his numerous government agency connections, he remained a civilian and not allowed to secure information about their Social Security accounts. Whether or not they were presently being used, and where, could have the potential to tremendously shorten their search efforts.

“What if we find Emma and she kept her key, but the keys don't match?”

“Then Rocky's still an MIA or worse.” Huxley slowly shook his head. “He could to this day be held in an undisclosed prison camp or died there. It's been forty-seven years. He'd be seventy years old now. If he was held in a prison camp, he could have died from malnutrition or disease.” Huxley grimaced, surely not wanting to believe any of it. He reached for the key but stopped himself. “This key may be all we have left of my brother. Emma is our only hope.”

“Even though she may have moved on with her life.”

“Wait till we read the letters.” Huxley finally opened the flaps of the box. “Mom and I read most of them together when I was in my late teens. I guess I asked her too many times about Rocky, so she filled me in. That's when I decided I'd search for him. We need to glean as much new information from this mail as we can. The way Emma spoke of Rocky; he was her one and only. I'm praying that no matter where life took her, she kept a matching key.”

Chapter 4

Slowly, Huxley began lifting out the aging letters, placing them meticulously in a row on the tabletop. He found two larger envelopes, looked at the dates, and peeked inside. “Birthday cards.” He smiled sadly. “1971 and '72. His birthday was March 10th.” He placed them aside.

Sara watched him knowing that finding his brother's remains, and locating Emma, was Huxley's whole life. Sara remained quiet, more concerned with Huxley's emotions at that moment. He was a person as strong emotionally as she'd ever known. If anything could tear at him, weaken him, it would be finding positive proof that his brother had died.

Huxley wasn't obsessive-compulsive in the way he handled the old mail. He simply meant to treat the precious letters with respect. Next, he brought out a batch of letters tied together with a yellow ribbon in a bow, separate from the others.

“Mom must have tied them up with this ribbon.”

Lastly, he pulled out a fat yellow manila envelope. He opened it, peeked inside, and poured out a batch of various sized photos beside the letters. Huxley was always methodical. Sara had come to love this about him, though he was able to change the course of things in an instant when a situation dictated an immediate switch. He dropped the empty envelope and box onto a chair.

Sara watched him for any signs of extreme stress. She really had no idea how this search might affect him. “We will learn more. We will find Emma.”

He untied the ribbon from the separated batch and flipped through, reading each post date quietly as only his lips moved. “Oh no.” He handed the letter from the bottom of the small pile to Sara. “Tell me this isn't…” He swallowed hard, unable to speak.

Sara studied the handwriting on the envelope and then flipped it over. Goosebumps traipsed down her arms. Her hand shook as she looked closer. “Oh, Hux…” She felt a lump rise in her throat. “This letter hasn't been opened. It's from Emma to Rocky. Do you know what that post date means?”

Huxley took a deep breath and cast his gaze toward the ceiling, as if trying to retain some composure. “It means Rocky's never read it. Most likely, it's Emma's last letter to my brother before she learned he went missing. Rocky didn't have a chance to read it.” He placed the special letters aside and stood and paced like he usually did to dispel nervous energy and to think. “Rocky's personal belongings in Vietnam were delivered to Mom and Dad when the Navy listed him as an MIA. I didn't know about this batch of letters. Of course, Mom wouldn't read them to me. If they are full of love and commitment, I would have been too young to understand.”

Sara turned to face him as he leaned against the kitchen counter. “Did your mom at least tell you about these?”

He turned and slid the kitchen window open though the air conditioning was running. Normally, he'd say to open windows and air out the house a bit. The gesture of opening the window now was subconscious, representing his need for freedom from a situation encompassing him.

“No, Mom is not the type to pry. I have no idea if she read them. If she did, she would have read them privately just to feel closer to Rocky.”

“But still, she didn't open that last letter.”

They stared at each other, both knowing what the other was thinking. “We won't open this. We won't read this stack. These letters will be too personal.” She made a motion as if to push the letter away. “We'll find Emma and give her this special packet of letters along with the rest.”

He came to stand beside her, staring at the old mail laying on the table which was, undoubtedly, full of history. He turned to enclose her in his arms. “Thank you, my precious Sara. I'm glad you're with me in this.” He pulled away and gathered up the special letters, put the unopened one on the bottom of the stack again, and wrapped them with the yellow ribbon. He fumbled, trying to retie the bow. “You know? I have to look for her, but what if we find her and she's gone sour? What if we open a bucket of worms?”

“You're thinking too far into the future, Hux. Don't borrow problems.” Sara reached over and re-tied the bow for him. “These other letters and the photos will tell us where to begin looking for Emma.”

Chapter 5

Huxley sat again and laid the special stack aside. The postmarks on the other envelopes were faded and barely discernible. He removed and unfolded the contents of each, placing them atop their respective envelopes. Letters from Rocky to his parents were among the treasures. He paused to quickly glance over certain ones. He handled the faded and wrinkled old papers as if they were the most precious items in his possession.

“Let's read them together. I need your input, Sara. You have a knack for picking up remote clues.”

Sara squeezed his hand, slipped into her chair, and leaned closer as they both read the first one silently.

September 15, 1970

Dear Mr. and Mrs. Keane,

Rocky said that it would be OK to write to you once in a while. I'm writing to let you know about me. I miss him a lot. We got engaged July 4th, two days before he shipped out. I know he told you about me. He told me when he comes home, he will bring me to Oregon to meet you and his sister and little brother.

I live in San Francisco. My sister, Evelyn, and I manage a large apartment building on Page street. Our parents used to manage but they're gone, and we took over. I'm 21 and I'm the boss. My sister is 20 and works for me. Sometimes she works in other places to make more money. She dates a lot too. Our job here is a lot of work but we have an assistant manager. He lives in the building on the first floor across from us.

The building is old, but we have a nice apartment. My dad fixed it up a long time ago. It's the best apartment in the whole building. We don't go too many places because we work a lot. It helps pass the time till Rocky comes home. I gave Rocky a key so he would have a place to stay when he comes back to San Francisco. He promised to wear it taped inside his shirt pocket so it's close to his heart. I love him for doing that.

My sister used to date Rocky before me, but she went out with somebody else and they broke up after only a couple of months. She was sad at first, and even mad at me. She's real moody sometimes but I guess she's okay that Rocky and I are engaged.

I hope you will write to me once in a while because I know you miss Rocky too.

Very truly yours,

Emmalyn

P.S. You can call me Emma

Sara glanced over the message again. “This is from a young inexperienced person, Hux.”

“It's a bit juvenile, even the handwriting, but special anyway.”

“She sounds young, innocent for being twenty-one years old.”

Huxley stared at the letter. “Uh, yeah. Innocent compared to today's young.”

“Doesn't sound like she gets out much, always working in that apartment building. The sister may be the more worldly one.”

“From what I've been able to put together when I was old enough to read and understand these letters, these girls didn't socialize much, just managed that big building. I was only eight years old when this letter came.” He folded the piece of paper and inserted it back into the envelope.

“If we find Emma, maybe she'll have saved her mail from Rocky and your mom and dad too.”

“Here's something.” He picked up another missive. “It's one of Mom and Dad's letters to Rocky.” The letter was lengthy. “It's mostly about the work going on at the farm, but here, read this part.”

September 30, 1970

…We welcome knowing Emma. If you chose her, she must be a special person. We would love to know more about her and look forward to one day meeting her. We told her we have a large farm property in the Coburg Ridge foothills, in the shadow of Indian Head peak. Once you come home, please bring her with you. It might be a relaxing change for her to get away from The City and her job for a while. We told her about Kerrie and Huxley but we're sure you have also. We're praying for your safe return. Come back to us soon.

Love,

Mom and Dad

Huxley shook his head. “My poor mom, poor dad. They've waited so long.”

“I've never asked you their ages.”

Huxley paused, got a distant look in his eyes, then shook his head. “Both are ninety. They went to school together. Got married. Rocky was born near the end of their second year in college, but they still finished and got their degrees. They are inseparable.”

“Strong determined people, and very old now.”

“I know, I know. They both have failing memories. Waiting for Rocky is what's keeping them alive, but they're failing now.”

Sara rubbed the back of his neck, something that always helped him to relax. “We will bring him home, Hux. A lot of years have passed but we will prevail. It's what we're good at. Every search we've done so far has prepared us for this one. We'll find Emma. One way or another, we will have closure for you and your whole family, no matter what it takes.”

Chapter 6

Sara brought bottled water from the fridge rather than drink more coffee that late in the day. She and Huxley read a few more of the letters and folded them away once again. Then Sara noticed something peculiar in the next letter. “Oh, Hux, look what she told your parents.”

July 15, 1971

Dear Audrey and Mather,

We are still working hard at our jobs. So many people with different lives is hard to keep track of. Evelyn went to collect late rent from a tenant. When she was in the apartment, she heard the tenant scream. The woman's toddler fell out of the window four floors up. That's the top floor. The baby died. The windows high up don't have screens because they're impossible to install. The mother must have left the window open and the toddler went out.

The police questioned Evelyn and the mom and Evelyn got really scared. She told the police that there was a flowerpot beside the window and the toddler used it to climb up. The little boy was born retarded and the mother thought it might have been for the best and Evelyn agreed. I am sick about this and do not know how Evelyn could agree to such things. Lots of things happen in an apartment building this size.

I have received a few letters from Rocky with some pictures. He sent you the same ones. He's so handsome, even in his work clothes. He is my one and only. I will love him forever.

Our anniversary on July 4th was sad for me. Sometimes I cry and get depressed. Evelyn feels that way too. I think she's still in love with him. She gets moody and real angry and won't let me talk about him. Rocky is lucky. He has two of us waiting for him. I hope Evelyn is okay that I will be the one to marry him. She keeps the pictures of him and her. Some were taken at Playland at the Beach. She keeps them because there are rumors The City will tear Playland down. I know she keeps them because she's still in love with him. She keeps a picture of them together on her nightstand.

That's all the news I have today. Thank you for always writing me back.

Yours truly,

Emma

“Wow, Hux, back then they still used the term retarded instead of Down Syndrome.”

“Sad about that baby.” He shook his head.

Sara held onto the letter, re-reading it. “Wait a second.”

“What is it?”

“If we don't find Emma, would we be able to find the sister? I'll bet those two didn't stay together through the years though.”

“Why do you say that?”

She pointed to several lines in the letter. “Evelyn is not very happy that her sister is engaged to her former boyfriend. It was enough of a problem that Emma spoke of it to your parents.”

“You're doing it again.”

“What am I doing?”

“Thankfully doing, Sara. You're reading hidden meanings behind the words. You pick up things that most people miss, like that lost girl you found last year.”

“I remember. It was that first case I took after I came home from Hawaii.”

“You sensed the situation correctly from reading her diary. Just like now, with this letter. You may be onto something here.”

“I sense more than a bit of animosity from Evelyn toward her sister. And regardless she's aware of her sister's jealousy, Emma is pretty naive.”

“I don't know how you do it.”

“You do it, Hux. You know how to read your intuition.”

“But you're so fast.”

“You also have a photographic memory. You remember things once you've seen them. You think that doesn't help?”

Huxley squeezed her hand and read the letter again. Then he scattered the fading photos on the tabletop until he found several of Rocky in his uniform. Huxley stood again suddenly, his chair scraping the floor. He held Rocky's picture and looked at it, almost put it down, and looked at it again.

“The last thing Rocky told me before he left was that he'd teach me how to ride his motorcycle when he returned.” His eyes glossed over. He paced, finally standing again near the counter, stealing glances at the photo he held, and staring out the kitchen window till he calmed.

Huxley was fascinated with motorcycles, but Sara understood why he would never ride one. He, too, had waited, wanting that first ride to be with his brother. She picked up other photos. Huxley had grown to look so much like Rocky.

“Beside her sweet looks, Emma must have been a nice person to catch your great looking brother.”

Huxley eased back into his chair and laid the photo down. They continued reading letters, mostly between Rocky and his parents, and looking at the aging photos. Some engagement shots of Rocky and Emma lay among the treasures. The stunning engagement ring was front and center in the picture of their hands. A large center diamond stood high with a large diamond on each side. The backs of the pictures were dated July 6, 1972.

“Two days later, he shipped out.”

“They look happy.” Sara needed to keep Huxley's emotions buoyant. “Look at Emma's long silky dark hair and eyes.”

In all her pictures, she wore the same tiny red stud earrings. Then they found pictures of Emma and Evelyn at a birthday party with a cake on the table.

“Evelyn's pretty too. Her hair's a little lighter and shorter.”

Evelyn wore a box chain necklace with the turquoise stone pendant. What looked to be a thin Italian chain bracelet was the only jewelry Emma wore.

“Evelyn's not as pretty. What a beautiful smile Emma has.” Huxley sighed heavily. “They'd have been happy together.”

Sara placed her hand on his and squeezed. “We can't change the past.”

They studied the few remaining photos of Emma and Rocky together.

Huxley sighed. “Emma barely reaches his shoulder. She must have been tiny.”

“And he was massive. Just look at his build.”

“That's why Palmer Dane told us when he got sick, Rocky carried him on his back through the jungle. Palmer knew he was sick and would be killed. He ran for his life. He got shot and wounded but got rescued by the Hmong people.”

Sara needed to ask, though she knew Palmer and Huxley had become close. She gently touched his hand. “Do you feel any resentment that Palmer got away, and the rest, including Rocky, didn't?”

“No, Sara, you said it. 'We can't change the past.' Someone lived… someone lived to help us find the rest.” His answer was quick, mostly likely came straight from his heart.

Sara studied the photo. “He has blue eyes, too, but not the same topaz color as yours. Still…”

Huxley smiled. “Our family was always known for our blue eyes.”

Another photo showed the sisters among friends. Another showed the sisters side-by-side with a line of girls.

“Look at that, Hux.” Sara was surprised. “You almost can't tell the sisters apart.”

They looked closely. Emma looked to be a bit shorter than Evelyn. It would be easier to tell the sisters apart by their heights.

Another close-up showed the sisters with a couple of other girls. Sara studied the photos for a while. “I can see why Rocky would be attracted to either girl, but Evelyn doesn't smile as much as Emma.”

They needed to find these sisters. She studied the features of both in the close-up photo. Neither had birthmarks, moles, freckles, or any blemishes on their skin. Their faces would have changed with age, so Sara wanted to remember their facial structures and other attributes. Either sister would be crucial to the identity of the key.

In Emma's next letter to Audrey and Mather, she explained what Rocky had suggested.

January 10,1972

Dear Audrey and Mather,

Rocky surprised me with a suggestion. I wanted you to know in case he hasn't told you. It was an off-the-wall idea because he knows I get depressed about him being so far away. He wants me to move to Honolulu. He said Evelyn can probably manage the apartment building with the assistant manager. He will be passing through Honolulu when he comes home. He wants to show me the Hawaiian Islands before we settle down. We might even live there because he loves Hawaii.

He knows retired military friends who live there and are on the Board of Directors for their new apartment building. They need an experienced apartment manager. Rocky said I have the experience they need. I have thought about leaving this building because the memories of my family make me sad. I'm not sure what to do but I'd be closer to Rocky.

Evelyn doesn't want me to go. I think she's real jealous. Sometimes I think I could strangle her just to straighten her out. She changed for the worst when Rocky and I got engaged. I have to make her see if she replaces me as Manager, she could make a better salary. She always needs money and could stop borrowing from everybody. She confuses me. Should I go to Hawaii?

Thank you,

Emma

Huxley opened one more letter from his parents but only scanned it. “They told Rocky about Emma's comment about strangling Evelyn. They asked her not to think about harming her sister. They were hesitant about her being able to support herself in Honolulu, but if Rocky's friends would hire her, then she had a place to stay as well as a job.” He folded the letter again. “If things didn't work out, I know Mom and Dad would help her get back to San Francisco.” He stuck the letter back into the pile.

“That comment about strangling her sister must have surprised your parents.” Sara gestured toward the pile of letters, neatly stuffed back into their envelopes. “That's it? No further correspondence?”

“Just another one from Emma to Mom and Dad.” He didn't bother to show it and stuffed them all back into envelopes. “Chit-chat about what was going on at the apartment building.”

“And the deteriorating relationship between the sisters, right?” She went to close the kitchen window.

“You intuit that without reading these last ones?”

“Yes, because it bothered Emma enough to keep mentioning it, even though she didn't say anything specific. Sisterly rivalry, you think?”

“That's all we have to get us started.” Huxley stacked the photos and dropped them back into the manila envelope. “That's where communication ends but look at these.” He showed Sara the last two sealed letters his parents had sent to Emma in San Francisco. Both were stamped, Return to Sender – Addressee Unknown. One was date stamped January 20, 1973, the other March 14, 1973. “Mom was surprised she hadn't heard from Emma again after October of '72. It was one big mystery.”

“Seems we have only one recourse.” Sara looked at him hopefully. “San Francisco is where we should start.”

Not until recently did she realize traveling must be in her blood. After all, how could she as an eighteen-year-old dash off after her family's deaths and her finishing high school? She had escaped to Puerto Rico where she knew no one and didn't speak the language. She'd traveled some in the Caribbean. She'd also been to Vietnam three times and lived briefly on Kauai in Hawaii. Now she was willing to go wherever this special investigation took them.

Chapter 7

“Hurry up, Hux. Let's try to get there before dark.” They were getting a late start with much to do and both were antsy.

He slid the shower door open and poked his head out. “Oh, but showers are necessary. Jump in here with me.”

Neither Sara nor Huxley appreciated occurrences preventing them from getting on with things. Sara was still in her grubby denim capri shorts and shirt, having worked with the contractor up in the attic. Huxley needed to shower, change clothes, and repack since just returning from his trip to Oregon.

Once both were in the shower, they lathered each other and threw soap bubbles back and forth. They enjoyed being naked together, but it wasn't a time to fantasize about making love under a waterfall.

Huxley drove Sara's two-year-old dark green Jeep Wrangler Unlimited 4x4. She had purchased it from an old farmer who had fallen on hard times. Despite her reputation for solving cases, Sara wished to remain low-key in the Delta. She didn't wish to seem like she gloated over her ability to make millions off the DVD games she created for children. She bought the Jeep, denying herself another beautiful new Acura MDX Hybrid Minivan she had her eye on.

The farmer selling his vehicle got him out of financial distress. In character of quietly helping others, Sara also paid off his major debts with a promise that he never revealed the source of financial aid. The farmer promised. His business was flourishing again this year and he graciously insisted on paying her back.

If he tries to pay me back, I'll use it to set up a college fund for his grandkids, she had thought in response to his offer.

Sara found she could better transport furnishings and other items to service her property in the Jeep. She still thought about the Acura MDX Hybrid Minivan she nearly died in when run off the road on Kauai in Hawaii. She had added a pearlescent tone to the pale sky-blue color, the only car on the island that shade of azure. The Blue Pearl, she aptly named it. She seriously thought about buying another. Yet, it might make her think too often of nearly dying in the accident and the sociopath she helped bring to justice. In keeping with the farm country in which she lived, she named her green Jeep Wrangler the Green Bean.

She and Huxley visited the tire shop to pick up his old Ford truck. It had been cheap when he purchased it, him needing only transportation in the Delta. He had no qualms about leaving the old pickup parked at the Sacramento International Airport for weeks at a time when he had to go out of town. Recently, he had too much on his mind. He neglected the tires on the truck. The one that blew had ripped to shreds, a sign he had driven on it in a dangerous condition far too long. He was lucky to hobble to the tire shop. All the tires needed changing. That little chore would be handled when they returned from San Francisco. They backtracked and left the pickup in the garage at Sara's home.

Her home was aptly named Talbot House after Orson and Esmerelda Talbot who once owned it. Sara felt deep sympathy for Esmerelda when Orson's remains were found on the property. He had been murdered, a victim of Tripp Unwin. To honor Orson, she let the name of Talbot House remain.

By the time they left Courtland, the scorching afternoon heat had just about baked everything. People scattered for shade or shelter. The severe climate predicated having the A/C blowing until they made it through Rio Vista and Fairfield and picked up Hwy. 80. After passing Vallejo and entering the Bay Area, the A/C went off and the windows came down.

Huxley breathed a sigh of relief. It was late afternoon, but days were longer this time of year. Though he drove too fast, there really was no hurry, other than their eagerness to learn more about Emma's whereabouts.

Sara leaned toward Huxley to be heard over the sound of the wind whipping past the opened windows. “Given the years that have passed, this mystery won't be solved overnight.”

“Agreed.” He seemed wistful.

Night was approaching as they crossed the San Francisco/Oakland Bay Bridge. City lights began flickering on from both sides of The Bay. Huxley had kept the windows lowered. Wind off the ocean cooled the air, a blessed relief. When traveling, she wore her long blonde hair in one braid down the back. The breeze through the vehicle blew a few stray strands, which never bothered her.

Huxley breathed deeply. “We can probably get a room at Le Meridien. That's where our Vet team meets up when we cross back and forth over the Pacific.”

“Without a reservation?” Sara felt so much a part of Huxley's life, but he could still be full of surprises. “Can we get in this late?”

“I think so. They know me and our group.”

They wanted to start their search fresh in the morning, so decided to stretch their legs a bit after the two-hour drive. Later, they ate a sumptuous dinner at Swiss Louis on Pier 39 and watched the low-lying fog slither in over the water. The background of soothing dinner music was only punctuated by the occasional forlorn sound of a foghorn out on the bay. After dinner, they strolled the pier.