Peppermint Creek Inn (26 page)

Sirens and bells screamed throughout the air.

Bingo!

Garry cursed loudly outside the chain-link fence.

The front door burst open and three men dressed in black, with drawn guns surrounded her.

“You must be the welcoming committee,” she said cocking an inquiring eyebrow at them. From the corner of her eye she spotted another “welcoming committee” surrounding Garry.

“Take it easy guys, I’m a P.I. My ID is in my wallet.” She held the wallet out at arm’s length so the goons could see it. “I’m also armed. The gun is in my right shoulder holster. Just so you know.”

A tall, very pretty woman with shoulder-length auburn hair dressed in a smart navy blue blazer and short skirt erupted from the building. She was followed by two more armed men dressed entirely in black.

“I know who you are,” the woman said sharply. “You’ve just broken into a high-security government building. If you don’t answer some questions mighty quick, you and your accomplice are going to jail.”

“You better show us a federal arrest warrant mighty quick or we’re walking,” Garry yelled from the other side of the fence.

Jo picked up Garry’s hint and turned to leave.

“No. Wait!” the woman shouted at Jo.

Jo stopped and turned to the woman. “You’ve got questions. We’ve got answers,” Jo lied. “How about you tell us what you know and we’ll reciprocate. Have we got a deal?”

“Deal,” the woman mumbled. “Come inside.”

—

“Listen, I’m sorry I snapped at you last night. When you took off like that I was worried for your safety,” Sara said as they headed back home in the truck with the rain drumming against the roof of her cab like a thousand impatient fingers. Ever since she’d picked up Tom at their designated meeting spot, he’d been quiet. Brooding. Actually, he’d been quiet since early this morning, barely touching his breakfast and saying few words to her except for when he’d argued he would be going to town with her.

When he’d finally spoken to her, he’d said only enough to tell her Cran Simcoe was her shadow, and in his opinion a harmless one at that.

Tom didn’t acknowledge her apology. As a matter of fact, he totally ignored her as he stared blankly out the passenger window.

“Tom? Did you hear me? Or are you simply not going to answer me?”

“I just don’t feel much like talking is all.” A muscle twitched in his jaw.

It didn’t take a brain surgeon to figure out he had another headache.

“I’ll make you another cup of willow bark tea when we get back.”

“Sure.”

Sara frowned. He really must have a doozie of a headache if he wasn’t protesting the awful tea.

“There’s some extra-strength painkiller in the paper bag right there.” She pointed to the bag on the bench seat between them then suddenly realized her mistake.

Oh, shoot!

The condoms! They were in the bag!

Sara made a grab for the bag but realized she was too late.

He’d already opened it and was looking inside.

She watched in shock as his face suddenly turned pale as a ghost. Her foot had already hit the brakes when he shouted his warning. Tom barely made it out of the truck in time.

—

Tom grimaced as Sara placed the second cup of the bitter tea in front of him and sat down beside him.

“So what gives?” Sara asked.

“The headache. A little.”

“Quit goofing off. I’m serious. Why’d you react like that in the truck? Was it—” Sara hesitated.

She wanted to know if he’d seen the condoms buried underneath the mail. She didn’t think he had, but still, she would appreciate knowing if the thought of making love to her repulsed him so much he’d become violently ill and almost passed out.

Instead she went with her instincts and asked, “Did you have another memory flash?”

He frowned in response and picked up the cruel smelling brew, took a deep breath and gulped down a giant mouthful. Another grimace quickly followed, this time obviously from the horrid taste.

“Yes. I had a memory flash. I’ve been having more of them over the past few days.”

“Well, I’m glad you could confide in me.” Sara angrily crossed her arms.

Tom nodded, the fine lines around his mouth deepening as his frown increased. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. I should have.”

Her anger quickly faded to compassion when she realized he indeed was truly sorry for not telling her.

“Are they about your family? Do you remember their names?”

“Nothing about my family.” His words were drenched with dread and Sara shivered under the onslaught of the troubled look in his eyes.

“What…what do you remember?”

Anxiety curled around her. She remembered what her shrink Smokey had said, that if he remembered his past he might forget her.

“I couldn’t see his face. But he was an older man. He was lying on the floor. There was—” Tom shut his eyes tightly as if to squeeze the memory away “—lots of blood.”

Sara swallowed hard at the scorching look of pain twisting his face and she tried to dispel the fear creeping across her shoulder blades. There were questions to ask. Questions she didn’t want to rise, but she had to. “Did this man have red hair? A pencil-thin mustache?”

“No, he had white hair.”

“Thank God.” Sara let out a breath of relief.

“It’s not the missing officer?”

“No, it’s not. Did you see yourself killing this man?”

He shook his head. A frustrated frown crossed his face.

“Good. That’s good.”

Another hurdle crossed.

“But I didn’t see myself not killing him,” he said tightly.

“Let’s keep this positive. Remember innocent until proven guilty.”

“Okay, okay,” he whispered and nodded his head. “Positive. I can do that.”

“Is there any more you’re not telling me?”

“No, it’s always the same. I’ve tried to see who he is, but I can’t make out a face. Just white hair and lots of blood.”

“It’ll come with time,” Sara said gently.

“I don’t know if I want it to come.” His jaws tightened and released and he stood. His strong muscular legs took him over to his raincoat hanging on the peg by the door where she heard paper rustling as he searched for something in the pocket.

When he returned to the kitchen table, he sat down and plopped a small paper bag on top of the table in front of her. For a horrible instant, Sara thought it was the bag containing the condoms.

Then she relaxed when she saw the writing on the bag indicated it was from the hobby shop.

“Open it. It’s for you. I bought it with some of the spending money you gave me,” Tom said, his expression was soft and tender.

Her heart clutched warmly and curiosity burned inside her as she peered into the bag. The minute she saw its contents, her stomach did a somersault. Shaking her head, she pushed the bag away as if it were contaminated.

“I can’t.”

“You can,” Tom replied gently.

He withdrew the white box of charcoal sticks along with a strip containing four photos. He held up the photo strip for Sara to see and tried to smile the same way he’d smiled when he’d sat in the photo booth in the drug store he’d gone to as the camera snapped shots of him. Sara found herself smiling at his antics.

“I figured I’m an impartial object for you to draw,” he chuckled. “And don’t say you don’t do drawings of people because I’ve seen the paintings hung up in those cottages. And I especially like the one of the twins making a snowman. Is that how you imagined them to look?”

Sara nodded. He’d hit the nail right on the head. They had been her twins, or who she’d imagined them to be at their various ages.

She stared at the box of charcoals as if it was the devil itself. “I can’t draw you. I can’t draw anything anymore. It’s gone.”

“A talent like yours never goes away. You’ve got to dig deep down. Bring it back to the surface. I’m a safe enough subject don’t you think? I come with a blank slate so to speak. Will you give it a try? Please? For me?” he coaxed, his eyes blazed with a fierce heated confidence, urging her on.

Sara gave in and took the strip of pictures in hand, examining them carefully. It would be kind of nice drawing his handsome features. Those long, delicious black lashes, the endearing lines around his mouth, the wonderful slant to his green eyes.

“Sure, I can try.”

That gorgeous crooked smile fluttered across his features catching her off guard again, making her pulses pound, making her pussy cream with anticipation.

“Good that’s all I’m asking, Sara. Keep your twins alive in your paintings. Keep me alive.”

Sara jolted. “Why are you talking this way? You sound as if…” She shook her head slowly. “I don’t know, almost as if you were going to disappear on me. Are you?”

His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed hard, obviously not wanting to tell her but knowing he had to.

“I ran into Jeffries.”

“You what?” Her mind whirled as terror rammed into her. Justin Jeffries had seen Tom. She needed to get him out of here. Needed to get him to somewhere safe until she heard from Jo and Garry.

“I spoke with him.”

“Did he recognize you?” She gulped down her fear. “Of course he didn’t. That was a stupid question. If he had, you’d be in jail or— No, he doesn’t know who you are.”

“His glasses were pretty soaked and he had trouble seeing me, but he said something that got me thinking it might be just a matter of time before he puts two and two together. He asked me if we’d met somewhere before. I think we should leave today.”

“Okay.”

Tom blinked at her with apparent disbelief. Obviously, he hadn’t expected her to agree.

“On one condition though,” Sara quickly added.

“Name it.”

“We start looking for answers ourselves.”

Sara noticed the sparkle of interest light up his eyes as he leaned forward in his chair.

“How’s that?”

“You up for a visit to a ghost town?”

A late afternoon mist gently hovered over Jackfish Bay. The rain had cleared out early afternoon and the sky had turned a brilliant warm blue.

They’d driven down the narrow winding road to the ghost town and parked the truck in a clearing near the train tracks. Now as Tom stood on the tracks, scanning the gray rippling waters of Lake Superior his gaze immediately pinned onto the large rocky island about a quarter mile out in the bay. The eerie feeling of déjà vu slammed into his stomach like a fist and he suddenly found it difficult to breathe.

That island. Why did it draw him so intensely?

Closing his eyes, he focused on breathing in the cool, breezy lake and tried to conjure up a memory. Within seconds one appeared.

For a flash of time, Tom stood on the rocky island’s shoreline. The gentle lapping sounds of water did not soothe him as he stared at the ghost town littering the main coast. A seagull flapped overhead. The sunshine beat against his naked body. But still he shivered.

He felt so damn cold. Even his teeth betrayed him. They wouldn’t stop chattering.

He looked at the chilly black waters. Could he make it off the island? Did he even want to try?

The vision disintegrated leaving Tom with nothing but more questions.

He’d gone into that water? At this time of the year? But why? Why had he gone out to the island? Any sane person could see it was too cold for a swim.

Maybe he’d been here last year? But as his gaze raked over the rocky island, he felt relatively comfortable with the idea he’d been here not too long ago.

The peacefulness of the area shattered as Sara called excitedly from somewhere ahead. Shifting the heavy knapsack on his back, he cast one last wary look at the island before quickly leaving the railway tracks. He followed the worn path leading up an incline. On the other side of the grassy knoll, he spotted her anxiously waving to him.

“Over here,” she called.

He trudged through the tall grass to meet her.

“Here it is.” Sara made a sweeping motion with her arm. “Good old town of Jackfish.”

Tom gazed at the sight.

Many of the debilitated wooden structures had caved in through the seasons. Some stood at awkward and tilted angles. Others stood proudly, their empty black windows yawning at them.

“You’ve been here before, haven’t you?”

He nodded, meeting Sara’s anxious gaze.

“Nothing I can put my finger on. But yes I get the feeling I’ve been here before. And what I’m wondering is why? Why would I come to a place so isolated?”

“You must have had a good reason. And if what you are feeling is true, this confirms what Justin said about you being here with him and Sam. They are the ones who handcuffed you and beat you to a pulp.”

“I could have put up a good fight when they tried to arrest me.”

“Sorry, but I won’t buy that angle. Justin didn’t have a mark on his face and he didn’t look like he was hurting. Beating a prisoner is illegal, Tom. Shooting him in the back isn’t proper procedure either. Now more than ever, we have to prove your innocence. The only way for us to do it is to keep looking around and see if you can remember.”

Before he could say anything, she was heading down the pathway. Her arms and legs moved with a determined confident stride, urging him to follow her.

A cold feeling of dread began a slow creep along his spine as she led him along the path running adjacent to the railway tracks. She pointed out various abandoned buildings and what they’d been.

Eventually they stumbled across a lone cottage perched on a cliff. Beside the cottage sat a two-story shell of a leaning building. The name “Jackfish” was haphazardly scrawled on a wooden shingle nailed to the derelict, a public announcement to anyone who dared enter the ghost town’s confines.

“It was 1884 when the railway blasted its way through here, leaving a railway construction town in its wake. This was the hotel for the workers.” Sara pointed to the building. “They had a town dock. It’s gone now and at one point three dynamite factories were erected to make dynamite to blast the bedrock for the rail bed throughout Northern Ontario.”

Tom tried to imagine himself working for the railroad. With Sara as his wife. A passel of kids. A house with a white picket fence. Leaving her for weeks on end to work on the railroad would have been hell, but coming home to his lovely Sara would have been heaven.