Secrets Can Be Deadly Read online

  The phone rang. Someone has bad timing, he thought. “Pierce.”

  The voice was low and muffled. “Did you get my note?”

  “Who is this?”

  “You’ll find out soon enough.” The caller hung up.

  Mason slammed the receiver down. Someone was playing a bad practical joke, surely. He thought of Paul, Jeff, Todd, and Carl. Any one of his friends was capable of pulling off this stunt. The phone rang again.

  “What now?” he shouted.

  “Did someone have a bad day at work?” Sophia’s soft voice was music to his ears.

  “Sorry, sweetheart. I think the guys are up to something. You caught me off guard.”

  “It’s probably Carl. He gets in the most trouble.”

  Mason had told Sophia many of the practical jokes the guys had played on one another—switching Todd’s bedroom and living room furniture, reassembling Paul’s motorcycle in a tree house, making Jeff believe his car had been stolen and sold for parts.

  “Have you seen the forecast for tomorrow night?” Sophia asked. “Sixty percent chance of snow. Maybe three inches.”

  “No, I didn’t know that. I trained George all day and missed the news.”

  “Don’t forget, I leave for Alta Vista tomorrow to visit my aunt and uncle. I’m going to leave from the bank right after lunch. Too bad you won’t be able to come. I could use some company on the drive.”

  “It’s less than a four-hour drive. You’re a great driver. It’s the other people I’m worried about. Leave as early as you can so you don’t have to drive in the dark. Call me once you get there. Love you.”

  “Love you, too. Be nice to your prankster. See you in four days.”

  Mason looked at the note again as he grabbed another slice of pizza.

  3 Wednesday, January 17, 1968 (Sam)

  It was the day after the fire. Another bright, sunny day. It was warm enough that Abigail let me sit on the porch swing and eat my lunch. I was finishing a peanut butter sandwich when Mom drove up the driveway.

  Mom walked over and tousled my hair. “I need to speak to Abigail a minute. Stay here and finish your sandwich.”

  “Okay, Momma.” Mom had on a new strawberry print dress. Her red eyes matched the dress.

  She walked inside. I could see her through the window talking to Abigail in the kitchen. When she came outside, she sat next to me on the swing.

  “You’re going to meet your grandparents today. My mother and father. We’re going to go live with them,” Mom said.

  “Where do they live?” I asked.

  “They live in Delmar, too. On a farm.”

  “Why haven’t I ever seen them?”

  “It doesn’t matter.” Mom wiped away a tear. “You’ll see them today.”

  “Do they have cows or pigs?”

  “They did a long time ago. Not anymore.”

  “How about a horse?”

  “No. No horses.”

  “What about a dog?”

  “I doubt it. Your grandmother is allergic to dogs and cats.”

  “Just like you, huh?”

  “Yes, Sam. Enough questions, we’ve got to get going. Go inside and say goodbye to Abigail.”

  The drive to my grandparents’ farm took ten minutes. When Mom turned onto the gravel driveway, I noticed a chicken coop and a yellow machine shed. An old red barn surrounded by tall trees stood at the end of the drive. I shivered. The barn scared me. It looked like the trees were trying to eat the barn. Part of a tree had broken off, but left a scar on the barn.

  Behind two large pine trees, I saw a two-story white house with black shutters. The paint was peeling and one of the shutters hung at an angle. Mom parked the car in the driveway next to an uneven brick pathway that led to the front steps.

  A gray-haired petite woman in a pink flowered dress came out the front door and down the porch steps. She smiled as she walked toward the car. “Good afternoon, Evelyn.”

  “Mother, what are you doing outside without a coat? Go back inside before Father sees you.”

  “He went to town to see Red. Your father won’t be back for another half hour.”

  My mom opened the car door. “Sam, out of the car.” Mom walked to the back of the car and opened the trunk. “Sam, get the backpack Abigail gave to you. Then say hello to Grandmother Mildred.”

  “Come here, Sam. Give your grandmother a hug.”

  I’d never seen this person. Why would I want to give her a hug?

  I got of the car, grabbed my backpack, slung it over my shoulder, then slowly walked over to Grandmother Mildred, only getting close enough to see the wrinkles on her face and hands, and get a whiff of mothballs.

  I crinkled my nose and tried to smile. “Hi, Grandma.”

  “It’s Grandmother or Grandmother Mildred, never Grandma,” she said. “Your Grandfather Ernest will be home shortly. Do not call him Grandpa. Can you remember that?”

  “Yes, Grandmother,” I said softly. “I’ll try.”

  “Trying isn’t good enough. You’ll remember or there will be consequences.”

  “Don’t scare the child,” my mom snapped.

  “Your rooms are at the top of the stairs. They’re unlocked.” Grandmother Mildred turned and went inside.

  Mom knelt and took my hand. “Your Grandfather Ernest has strict rules and everyone is expected to obey them. Even Grandmother won’t argue with him, so I don’t want you to argue with him either. He’s a lot bigger than your dad. He’s like one of the wrestlers you watch on TV. Your Grandfather served in the army and used to work at the jail. He’s a tough man. Grandmother Mildred is quiet and stays in the house a lot. I just want you to know that things will be different here than they were at our house.”

  I wanted to run away. I wanted to hop on the afternoon train and go far, far away, but Mom looked sad. I’d stay and cheer her up. “I’ll be good. I promise.”

  “Come on, Sam. This is our new home.”

  Grandmother sat in a rocking chair in the living room, knitting. A ball of yarn in her lap. It looked like she was making a scarf. She glanced up long enough to say, “Dinner will be served promptly at six.”

  The house was dark, except one light above Grandmother Mildred’s chair. Mom turned on the stair light and started up the steps. “Follow me, Sam. I’ll take you to your new room.”

  The wood steps creaked. It gave me chills. We walked to the end of the hall. Mom opened the door to my room.

  I looked inside and saw a twin bed, a small table, one folding chair, and a four-drawer dresser, painted green. The closet was in the corner next to the only window. A shade covered it—no curtains. The carpet smelled like cat pee and the pale yellow walls looked like they’d been painted with cat pee. I tossed the backpack on the bed.

  “This afternoon we’ll go to the thrift shop and get a few things to wear. How does that sound?” It seemed that Mom was trying to convince herself more than me that it was a good decision.

  “How long will we have to live here?” I asked.

  “I don’t know yet. Lie down and take a nap. I’ll come get you in an hour.”

  I didn’t want to take a nap. I didn’t want to be in this house.

  We found tennis shoes, black boots, three pants, four shirts, pajamas, two coloring books, and crayons at the thrift store. Next, we stopped at a discount store to buy socks and underwear.

  “Momma, I’ll need some school supplies, too. Paper, pencils, markers.”

  “What about what I need? We’re not made of money you know.” Mom shook her head. “I’m sorry Sam. I shouldn’t have raised my voice. Mommy’s having a bad day.”

  Mom pushed the shopping cart down the third aisle. “You’re in luck, Sam. They have spiral notebooks on sale.”

  “I need some markers, too.”

  “I don’t have enough money to buy markers right now. If you don’t have any at school, you’ll just have to borrow them from the other kids.”

  “But, Mom. The kids will think I’m poor.”r />
  “Stop whining or I’ll put the notebooks back.” Mom slapped my arm. “Tell your teacher your house burned. Let her feel sorry for you and she’ll give you things. You’re going to have to learn how to manipulate people to get the things you want.”

  I was scared. She had never hit me in public before. “Yes, momma.”

  Neither of us said a word on the ride back to Grandmother’s house. All I thought about was how unhappy I was. I missed Daddy and my brother.

  “Help me carry your things in the house,” Mom said. “It’ll be time for dinner soon.”

  I didn’t want to get out of the car, but I didn’t want to give my mom any trouble. “Yes momma,” I said quietly. I followed Mom inside the house and up the stairs to my room.

  “Put your things away. Grandfather doesn’t like any kind of mess. Remember that.” Mom walked out of my room and down the hall. I heard a door close.

  I sat on the bed. There was nothing in the world I wanted more than a hug from my mom. She hadn’t given me a hug or even a kiss since Daddy had died.

  I put my new clothes away, sat at the desk, grabbed one of the notebooks. This would become my journal. I’d write what I did each day and what I learned. My dreams would fill the pages. I’d keep my journal safe in my backpack because I didn’t want anyone else to read it. The journal would be my secret.

  Two weeks after we came to live with Grandfather and Grandmother, Mom came into my bedroom, kissed my forehead, and told me to be good. I could barely see her face in the dark. She pulled the covers to my chin. I turned over and closed my eyes.

  A few minutes later, the front door closed. I sat up, rushed to the slightly frosted window, lifted the shade. A figure walked across the yard, got in the Plymouth Fury, and drove away.

  That was the last time I saw my mom. And the last day my grandparents spoke her name.

  4 Thursday, January 17, 1980 (Mason)

  When Mason walked into the police station, he saw George at his desk, the policies and procedures manual open.

  “George, tell me the first three steps in securing a crime scene.”

  George glanced at Mason and said sarcastically, “Good morning to you too.”

  “Some mornings there are no time for niceties. You have to start the day running. What’s the answer?”

  Mason hadn’t slept well. Thinking about the note on his car had kept him up most of the night. FAMILY SECRETS ARE HARD TO HIDE. He didn’t know why, but this didn’t feel like a game with his friends.

  Chief Franklin walked past Mason’s desk.

  “Morning, Chief,” Mason said. He turned just as George shot him a look as if to say I’m not good enough for a good morning.

  “Morning, Chief,” George said.

  “I want both of you in my office in thirty minutes,” the Chief said sternly.

  Mason watched the Chief grab a cup of coffee, walk into his office, close the glass door. The Chief’s corner office had two inner glass walls. The glass served two purposes—the Chief could observe the officers, and officers could see the Chief’s movements.

  “I hope you studied last night. Chief doesn’t look like he’s in a good mood today. He doesn’t normally close his door this early in the day.”

  “There’s a lot of that going around.” George turned his chair and went back to his manual.

  Mason tapped George on the shoulder. “Come on, George. Moment of truth.”

  “Can you give me an encouraging word?”

  Mason uttered, “You’ll do great. Now let’s go.”

  George knocked on the Chief’s door. He nodded them in.

  “Have a seat, George. Mason.” The Chief took a few sheets of paperwork off his credenza, laid them on his desk.

  “First off, I don’t care you have connections. I don’t care what they did. I care how you serve this town. You have to make your own contribution. You have to show me you care about your job and the people you work with. You’ll show me respect. You’ll show the City Council respect. No one gets special treatment from the police department. You catch a city official speeding, you give them a ticket. Got it?”

  “Got it.” George sat up straight in his chair.

  The Chief spent the next two hours quizzing George on department procedures. Mason realized he’d have missed a couple questions and made a mental note to re-read the manual in his spare time.

  The Chief signed and dated the last form. “Your oral orientation is complete. You’ll spend the rest of the week with Mason. Learn everything you can. Next week you’ll be on your own.”

  George cleared his throat. “Thank you, Chief.”

  Mason thought Get up, George. Time to go.

  “George, you can leave now,” the Chief said. “Mason, I’d like to talk to you in private a moment.”

  When they were alone, the Chief asked, “How do you think George is doing?”

  “He’ll be a fine officer. He’s just anxious right now. I remember how scared I was my first two weeks.”

  “You’re doing an excellent job of training him. Keep up the good work.”

  “Thank you, sir.”

  “One more thing.” The Chief smiled. “Make sure he knows how to make a good cup of coffee.”

  “I’ll teach him right after lunch,” Mason said, grinning.

  Mason got home at six. His lack of sleep the night before was catching up with him. He turned on the TV, flopped on the couch. The local weatherman was giving the seven-day forecast when the phone rang.

  “Pierce.”

  “Hey, it’s Carl. Mind if I stop by?”

  “Only if you bring a six-pack.”

  “Sounds like you had a hard day. Be right over.”

  Carl Barnes and Mason were best friends, there for each other whenever one needed to talk. Carl sounded happy. Mason wondered what good news he had to share.

  Mason would need some food if he were going to be drinking. He put a frozen pizza in the oven, set the timer. He’d burned many meals and Sophia had bought him a timer. Mason hated to admit it, but the timer was a good kitchen gadget. He grabbed a bag of chips and returned to the couch.

  Ten minutes later, a knock. Carl opened the door and let himself in. “Hi, buddy, got the beer.”

  The timer buzzed.

  “A timer? Are you kidding me?” Carl laughed.

  “Make yourself useful and take the pizza out of the oven. And don’t forget to turn it off.”

  “Yes, sir.” Carl saluted Mason. “Would you like to be served on the fine paper plates?” Carl mimicked a butler stance.

  “Very funny. Just bring the pizza and beer over here.”

  “I met a girl last night.” Carl was grinning. He carried the plates, pizza, and beer to the living room.

  “You forgot the pizza cutter. Top right drawer by the oven,” Mason said. “What’s she like?”

  “She’s five six, blonde, beautiful hazel eyes. She’s new in town. Living with friends until she finds a place of her own. She’s a bank teller and drives thirty minutes to work in Orange City. I met her at Toppers Bar & Grill last night.”

  “And how many beers did you have before you met Miss Wonderful?”

  “Very funny. I was on my first beer when she sat next to me. She was supposed to meet a friend, but her friend forgot. We talked over an hour.”

  “And does Miss Wonderful have a name?”

  “Oh, yeah. Katrina Kroy.”

  “You plan on seeing her again?”

  “Movies. Saturday night.”

  “If you end up dating her for more than fifteen minutes, we’ll go on a double date.”

  “Hey, be nice. This might be the one.” Carl hit Mason on the shoulder. “Why are you in such a grumpy mood?”

  “I’ve been training George two days. It’s affected my normal routine at home and the office. I didn’t know one person could ask so many questions,” Mason groaned. “Plus, Sophia’s out of town this weekend.”

  Carl laughed. “Your life has always been way too perfect.
I’m glad you’ve finally got someone to shake it up a little.”

  Mason thought about the note on his car and what Carl just said. Why would someone want his life in disarray?

  5 Monday, January 13, 1975 (Sam)

  Today is my sixteenth birthday. There will be no presents. No cake and ice cream. Grandfather and Grandmother don’t celebrate birthdays or holidays—except Christmas. I get one present on Christmas, and it’s always a flannel shirt.

  The weatherman’s snowstorm arrived on schedule. The news last night announced school closings for the whole county. The snow was falling in big flakes, covering everything in white, fluffy mounds. I was going to be stuck in the house all day with Grandmother and Grandfather. My original plan was to get my driver’s license on my sixteenth birthday. Like most things the past seven years, things never worked out the way I wanted.

  The only thing going my way today is that I had several unread library books. Medical journals fascinated me ever since my fourth grade science teacher got me interested in chemistry. I loved reading mystery novels, too. They took me to faraway places. I tested myself to see if I could figure out the murderer. I’d be able to spend all day in my room, away from my grandparents, and read.

  Reading filled a void, helped me forget. My dad and brother died shortly after my ninth birthday. I’ll never forget the black puddles—or the day my mother abandoned me. My heart fluttered every time I saw a red Plymouth Fury—I thought she’d come back. But it was never her. Then years of physical and verbal abuse by my Grandfather.

  Grandmother didn’t care. Or she was too afraid how Grandfather acted. How he’d yell at me, slap me, take me to the barn. Two more years of suffering. Then I’d be an adult and could make my own decisions. I could get out of this place. Any normal child enjoys childhood and doesn’t want it to end. All I wanted was the next two years to flash forward when I blinked.