Chapter 21

TWENTY-ONE

Ronnie and I briefly interview half a dozen other staff over the phone. Maintenance, one security officer who I'm guessing spent the time sleeping in one of the rooms, two other cleaning staff, two kitchen workers. Nothing interesting there and we didn't get a feeling any of them were lying.

It's after seven o'clock by the time we get out of there and I realize I haven't eaten since breakfast. Driving away from the resort I notice two large totem poles guarding the entrance. One is of an eagle with wings spread wide, the other is identical to the bear carving setting in my apartment. The totems remind me of my boyfriend, Dan, whose wood carvings are just as colorful. Dan told me the totems have spiritual meaning with attributes of some animal spirit. I'm curious but I need to change the mood. "Do either of you know what the totems represent?"

Rebecca says, "The bear is industrious, instinctive, powerful, guardian of the world, a watcher with courage and great strength. The eagle is a divine spirit. It represents sacrifice, a connection to creator, intelligence, renewal, courage, and freedom, and a risk-taker."

Ronnie smiles at her. "Dad was always going on about these. He commissioned them and had them installed when he bought the resort. He said the eagle reminded him of Mom. The bear was like him."

The bear sounds like me, but he bought it so he can think whatever he wants. Any direction I look, the causeway that separates Semiahmoo Bay from Drayton Harbor reminds me how the Pacific Northwest is beautiful and breathtaking country. It's home. Even though there is evil present, I wouldn't want to live anywhere else.

But I have to get my mind back in the game. Roger hadn't noticed the issue with the security cameras and apparently neither did Missy. There would be no video of the drunk couple leaving the resort, or any of the hallway outside Victoria's and Rebecca's rooms.

Rebecca asks, "What did your sheriff tell you about Missy?"

I tell them what Tony had on Melissa Milligan and that he is sending the complete records.

Ronnie says, "I had the feeling when I talked to Roger that he was covering for someone. If he's close to Missy, maybe she did something he doesn't want us to know about."

"Like what?" I ask.

"I don't know. She has a record for harboring a fugitive and lied to police for him."

The mean things Missy said about their mom runs through my mind. There is some kind of old grudge there on Missy's part. Maybe Rebecca's right and Missy's problem is with anyone who has more money than her. Roger didn't seem very upset the room had been cleaned against his orders. I wonder if he has a grudge against the family as well. Roger is a likeable enough guy. A nice guy. But even nice guys lie.

We reach the Marsh house and Rebecca opens the gates. I park under the portico in the front. The house is so magnificent I expect a bellboy to collect our luggage.

The weather turned nasty as we left the resort and the rain challenged the wipers to keep up. Now the rain has let up, the evening sun is out, and the puddles left behind by the storm reflect the sun and sparkle like diamonds.

Rebecca says, "Why don't you get your things and bring them upstairs. I have your rooms ready."

I'd need to tell Tony we might be here a while. I brought a small bag with some personal items: toothpaste, brush, mascara, etc. But I always keep a "go bag" packed away in the trunk of my vehicle with a change of clothes, spare ammunition, running shoes and some necessities like Cheetos and Payday candy bars. You never know when you might need those things.

Rebecca shows us up a wide staircase to a long hallway with doors on either side. Other bedrooms . She takes me into a room facing out over Semiahmoo Bay with a view across the Strait of Georgia. There's a walkout balcony/deck and I can see Point Roberts. It's a small community that's a part of Washington State but can only be accessed by traveling through part of Canada.

Rebecca says, "I hope you'll be comfortable. This is our best room. Ronnie's room is just down the hall." She opens the door to my ensuite bath. No expense has been spared but there is no tub, only a glassed-in shower with a number of rain heads mounted on one wall. "You'll love the shower. Dad just had it put in."

I lay my go bag on the California King bed and say, "Perfect." Compared to this room I live like a homeless person.

She smiles. "I'll just check on sis and we'll go to the kitchen where we can have coffee and talk."

"Don't wait for me," I say. "I'll just follow my nose."

"Then I'll get the coffee ready and wait in the kitchen."

My extra blazer isn't too wrinkled from being folded and crammed into the little overnight bag for the day. I put it under the mattress to press the worst of the wrinkles from it. It takes only a minute to unpack but it takes more time to pull my gaze from across the strait. Ronnie gave all this up for the life she has now. I'm glad she did but I don't know if I could have done it.

"I'm in the room next door," Ronnie says, coming up from behind me. She's getting to be very stealthy. "Is your room okay?"

I'll tell you after your father throws us out. "It's perfect."

"Mom kept my old room just the way it was when I left so I stay there when I come home. The only thing different is a bookcase full of law books my dad must have added. He never gives up."

"When was the last time you were home?"

"Six months and I didn't stay the night. Every time I get the urge to come home, I remember the arguments and the pressure and the guilt. My dad is the king of guilt trips. He doesn't come right out and say, ‘Look at all the things I've given you. All the opportunities that others would die for. You're wasting your life.' But his actions say he's very disappointed in me."

I wish I had a father who would have berated me and not tried to kill me. But I don't whine. I've got what I need. "He cares about you. How long did you say your family has lived here?"

"This land has always been in the family. My dad will tell anyone who will listen that we can trace our lineage back to his namesake Jack Marsh who settled in Virginia in 1635. The first male child has always been named Jack. My dad had a genealogist trace our history. But I've talked to the genealogist and the original Jack Marsh was a blacksmith."

I've gone by so many names. I'm not really sure who I am or who I came from except for my mother who calls herself Courtney now. If she were only a blacksmith and not a lying criminal bitch I would be in heaven. It would be virtually impossible to trace my family history. For me it all started after I killed my bio-father. Future generations—if there are any future generations—will look back on me and Hayden and deny knowing us.

"You should be honored," Ronnie says. "This is Rebecca's room and she wouldn't give it up for anyone. But don't make a fuss about it."

This is more than I expected and I don't know what to say, but I'm saved from embarrassment when a gong sounds and Ronnie makes a scary face and says, "Daddy's home." Of course she's referring to a different Jack and not Jack Nicholson from the horror movie The Shining , where Daddy gets possessed by homicidal ghosts.

Debating for a moment whether to wear my shoulder holster, I decide it won't be prudent to shoot our host, so I go down unarmed to greet Jack. He's waiting for us in the kitchen, directing Rebecca on the correct way to make coffee. Espresso actually. The man is not what I expected. There are numerous pictures of him and the family on the stairway walls, and in all of them he looks like a cowboy. He's square jawed, shorter than Ronnie or Rebecca, fit, and a ruddy complexion with a thick mustache that would make Sam Elliot jealous. My boyfriend, Dan, has been trying to grow a handlebar mustache and I don't have the heart to tell him to give it up. He has a beard but the mustache has got to go.

In person, Jack's smile doesn't reach his faded sky-blue eyes. He takes my hand. "You must be Megan Carpenter." He's very attractive. His eyes are more striking than the rug on his upper lip. They are an intensity that demands respect. He says, "Ronnie talks nonstop about you."

Ronnie does sometimes talk nonstop. But I doubt she's talked to him more than a handful of times since I've known her. Then I remember he's an attorney and he's got his "smoke and mirror" machine running, laying down cover and concealment.

"She talks about you too, Mr. Marsh." Never.

"Please. Call me Jack. You have quite the reputation, young lady. I somehow pictured you as older."

And I pictured you as taller. "Thanks, I think." I'm older than Ronnie, a year younger than Rebecca. I guess he expected me to be gray-haired and senile. I smile letting him know I'm not offended, which I am. "This is some place."

"It's home. We raised our daughters here. Of course my girls are busy with their own lives now." He gives Ronnie a look that silently rebukes her. She was right about him giving the "Jack" glare. It is impressive. I'll have to practice it on the little punks who live around my neighborhood.

"It was nice of you to put us up, Mr. Marsh."

"Jack. Please. Any friend of my Ronnie is welcome here. I hope Rebecca has you settled. Is the room satisfactory, Detective Carpenter?"

"I'm not on duty so call me Megan. And yes. It's perfect. And that view! If I didn't have to go back to work, I'd ask you to adopt me."

His expression grows serious. "I hope you see the sights while you're here. I assume you'll need to get back to work soon."

"I've asked them to stay and help find Mom," Rebecca says.

His expression darkens like the sky outside. "Rebecca has told you Victoria's missing?"

Rebecca blushes, but Ronnie isn't going to be intimidated. Good for her. "We're here until Mom comes home."

"So. I assume your partner will be here as well?"

I'm right here. "I wouldn't be a very good partner if I didn't offer my help, would I? I don't have to stay in your home."

"I appreciate your willingness to help, Megan, but this is a family matter and should be handled as such."

That does it. I'm not going anywhere. "Ronnie is worried about her mom and her sister and you. I'm worried about Ronnie. We're all worried about each other. So why don't we quit worrying and get down to business."

After a moment's silence he says, "You're welcome to stay if my daughters want it."

The sisters say nothing. I guess he's outvoted. I'm not leaving in any case. "Mr. Marsh"—I don't call him Jack this time because my professional reputation needs to be voiced—"I've worked many missing person cases and had excellent results. I can be the soul of discretion."

"Has Sergeant Lucas talked to you?" he asks.

"He made it very clear to stay out of his way. We will." Not. "But he has no authority over us as civilian contractors working for Rebecca." Veins stand out on Jack's neck and one throbs at his temple. "You won't find better help than us. We're experienced and motivated." I don't say Sergeant Lucas doesn't appear to be motivated beyond mooching coffee and cookies. "I understand this is a family matter, but the more you help us the sooner we'll find her. Have you hired a private investigator?" By his reaction I can see he has. "Have they started working?"

"No."

"If you use the investigator, we may run across them, so it would help us to know who they are?" Better yet, fire them.

He ignores my question.

"Can you trust whoever it is?"

"Megan, I've been a corporate lawyer for more years than you've been alive. I don't trust anyone. But I know people. Molly Quinn is very good at finding people. Expensive, but the best to my way of thinking because you get what you pay for."

"I'll charge you double what you're paying her if it makes you feel any better. You should fire her so Sergeant Lucas doesn't feel overwhelmed ." And get all defensive again.

His stern look cracks and he suppresses a smile. "Your reputation is you're incorruptible…and incorrigible."

I cock my head to the side and smile. "Ronnie's incorruptible. I'm incorrigible. Glad to meet you."

He looks at Rebecca. "Okay. You win. They can help. I'll tell Molly she's fired."

Leave it to an attorney to look at everything in life as a win or loss. Either way he might not like what we find.

"Now," he says, consulting his watch. "It's getting late. Have you two eaten?

Now he's talking. Jack suggests ordering in, and I willingly agree. We should get an early night. I suspect it's going to be a long day tomorrow.