Forbidden Entry (12 page)

“Hi, Kendall,” she said, looking up at me with a forlorn
smile, “I'm glad you came by. Would you like a cup of raspberry tea? I have some freshly baked cookies too.”

“Thank you. How are you holding up?”

Her shrug and wordless grimace said it all. Once she'd set out more cups and we were seated, Ginger urged, “Okay now, tell Kendall what you just told me.”

Marcelene took a sip of her tea and at the same time, slipped a piece of cookie to Squirt, who gulped it down and then sat on the floor gazing up at her with bulbous, adoring eyes. Her hand trembling slightly, she set the cup down with a despondent sigh. “It was July, fourteen years ago. Jenessa was seven years old. Arnold and I had rented a houseboat on Lake Powell along with Jack Dugan, a family friend, and his son, Eric, who was eleven, I think. Jenessa had begged us for weeks to allow her best friend Kailey to come along and after some hesitation and consulting with her parents, we finally said yes.”

“Why were you hesitating?” I asked.

“Because she was not a well child. We debated taking responsibility for her, but Jenessa was insistent that she be allowed to come, so...we eventually gave in.”

“What was wrong with her?”

“She suffered from a congenital heart issue called ASD. She was small, kind of skinny, tired easily and didn't have many friends, so Jenessa being the kind of person she is…” she swallowed hard and drew in a controlling breath, “was…befriended this child when few else would.” Tears shimmered in her eyes. “That's who Jenessa was—compassionate, loving, always there to lend a helping hand. You remember?”

“I do.” Even though I'd only met her a few times, she struck me as a gentle soul and goodness seemed to radiate from her.

“Kailey's parents balked at first, because she was scheduled for a second heart surgery the following month,” Marcelene continued, “but we convinced them that she would be fine and that we would keep a close eye on her. They finally agreed, so we packed up our van planning to spend the week there.” She stared blankly into space for a few seconds as if she were remembering something and then resumed. “Anyway, the first three days were a lot of fun, but on the evening of the fourth, Arnold started the boat generator so he could watch TV and cool the interior before we went to bed. All three children were having a grand old time swimming and playing in the shallow water near the shore. I can still hear their peals of laughter…” While Marcelene cleared her throat and drank more tea, I wondered where she was going with this seemingly innocuous story. I didn't have to wait long to find out.

“I remember going below deck to cook dinner,” she said, her voice falling almost to a whisper, “and the next thing I knew Arnold was shouting for me to come up on deck. I could hear the panic in his voice and my heart just froze.” Her voice quavered and as she fought for control, dark apprehension wrapped around my heart. I traded an inquisitive look with Ginger before turning back to Marcelene.

“I got topside just as he and our friend Jack were jumping into the water.” The look of horror reflected in her
eyes made my stomach constrict with dread. Part of me really didn't want to know what happened next. “While Arnold wasn't paying attention,” she went on, “the kids swam into the airspace beneath the swim deck where the exhaust from the generator was directed. It…it only took two or three minutes before…” In obvious distress, she paused, inhaling a shaky breath before continuing, “before the children were overcome by carbon monoxide fumes trapped under the swim platform.”

Uh-oh. Tension expanded inside my chest. I murmured, “Oh my God.”

Marcelene swallowed hard. “Once I stopped screaming hysterically, I got on the marine radio and called the National Park Service for help. They got there pretty fast and were able to revive Jenessa and Eric, but we could not find Kailey even though Arnold and Jack searched until they were both exhausted.” Closing her eyes momentarily, she gripped her throat as if the words burned. “The authorities didn't find her body until the next day,” she sobbed, tears snaking down her cheeks, “I can still see her little face in my mind. I swear not a minute has gone by that I have not been haunted by that poor child's death.”

Her eyes shining like liquid amber, Ginger placed her hand over Marcelene's. “I know this is awful hard for you to talk about,” she said kindly, “but she had to hear it.”

“I know, I know.” Marcelene swiped away tears and trained her troubled gaze on me. “There's no getting around the truth. It was our fault! We should have been more watchful. Needless to say, the Higglebottoms never forgave us, and who can blame them?”

“That's a name you don't hear everyday.”

A tremulous smile hovered around her lips. “Jenessa used to jokingly call her Kailey Gigglebottom.” She stood up, crossed to the baker's rack and brought back a framed photo. “They were like sisters. Inseparable. That's Kailey on the right.”

It was impossible not to feel a rush of sorrow as I studied the laughing faces of the two young blonde girls entwined in each other's arms, their cheeks pressed together, their eyes brimming with love. “And how did Jenessa react to this…horrific situation?” I inquired, glancing at her stricken face.

Fresh tears sprang to her eyes and my own misted up when she broke down again. “Dear Lord,” she wailed. “I wish it had been me instead of her.” Ginger and I exchanged morose looks as her heart-rending sobs filled the room. Several minutes passed before she regained control. “I'm sorry, I'm sorry. My daughter, my darling daughter…she was devastated. I don't think she truly ever got over losing her friend.” She pressed a wad of napkins to her nose. “She suffered terrible nightmares for a long time afterwards. We put her through years of counseling.” She paused, inhaled a ragged breath and narrowed her eyes at me. “Now can you understand why I'm having a hard time accepting that Jenessa's death was an accident?”

The heavy silence that fell upon the room wasn't broken until the little bird popped out and cuckooed eleven times. I hated to bring it up, but felt it necessary to ask. “Marcelene,” I began tentatively, “can you think of any reason she would have taken her own life?”

A vehement head shake. “Marshall asked me that same question and the answer is no! Sure, she was sometimes
sad because of her father's recent death, but…she had a lot to live for. She loved her music. She loved her job at the dress shop. She loved her church work. She loved helping animals and people in need. She loved Nathan. She loved…life.”

“And what about him? How were things going in his life?”

Her frown accentuated the lines on her gaunt face. “Well, he was pretty unhappy about his parents breaking up and I got the feeling that his wild antics and risk taking was his way of dealing with it, but I would never in a million years believe that he would harm himself or her. In fact, he confided to me just a few weeks ago that he'd been looking at engagement rings. No, I reject the idea of suicide completely.”

That left only one plausible explanation. I stared at her hard. “Are you saying that you think they may have been murdered? How?”

“I don't know. But, in here,” she whispered, pointing to her heart, “something tells me there is more to this than meets the eye.”

Overwhelmed with compassion for her loss, I said softly, “I totally sympathize with your situation and understand where you are coming from, but as of right now, today, there doesn't appear to be any evidence to support your suspicions. Are you prepared to accept that Jenessa and Nathan just made a…a disastrous mistake?”

“No.” Her mouth tightened in a stubborn line. “Call it a hunch, call it mother's intuition, whatever, I'll never believe it.”

Ginger leaned towards me, chiming in with a breathless, “If you lost your best friend and almost died yourself from carbon monoxide poisoning, would you be puttin' yourself in that same position twice?”

“No, I wouldn't.”

“I didn't think so.” Her golden eyes glittered with triumph. “So don't tell me you ain't got that hollow feelin' rollin' round deep in your gut,” she said, rubbing her hand expressively around her middle. “Anybody who believes those kids died accidentally don't know shit from apple butter! So, Sugar, it's time to cowgirl up.”

I gave her a curious stare. “Meaning what exactly?”

“Meaning you'd best be gettin' your butt in gear and find out what really happened to them.”

“But…”

“Ginger says your track record is better than most detectives,” Marcelene cut in, her face brightening with a look of such hopeful expectancy that a heavy cloak of responsibility settled on my shoulders at the same instant my heart quickened at the prospect of pursuing what might prove to be a tantalizing story. But I had to restrain my natural impulse to jump on it as I normally would. How could I? What about my family obligations and all the carefully laid plans? “Listen, I appreciate the vote of confidence and wish I could help you guys out, but this next week is not good for me…”

“I know you got a real full plate right now,” Ginger interjected with an imploring gaze that made my insides twist with guilt, “but this can't wait!”

“Ginger, I just can't. Look, Walter will follow up with Marshall and then after everyone leaves maybe I can…”

“Walter ain't you!” she fired back, her face flushed with emotion. “Not that he's lazy or nothin',” she tacked on apologetically, “but he don't have that pit bull disposition like you do. Nope. If anybody can get to the bottom of this, it's you, Missy.”

Marcelene reached out and grabbed my hands, imploring tearfully, “Please, Kendall! This is of utmost importance. I will never know another moment's peace again in my entire life if you don't help me. Please, I'm begging you.”

I sat there wrestling with myself, fidgeting uncomfortably beneath two pairs of beseeching eyes, yearning to act on what I had instinctively suspected from the very beginning. I don't know if it was the intense pressure or being overcome by the emotion of the moment, but before I could stop myself, I blurted out, “Okay, I'll think about it.” The moment the words left my mouth, I regretted them. What was I doing? Just how did I intend to be in two places at once?

CHAPTER

10

Moments later, after insisting that Marcelene take time to review every detail she'd told the sheriff and try to remember if there were any pertinent facts that she may have omitted, I slid into my Jeep. Tired beyond belief and feeling emotionally drawn and quartered, my mind whirled in different directions like a monsoon wind. Why, even though I'd vowed to myself and to Tally that I would work on my weak points, did it not seem possible for me to quit making these impulsive decisions that consistently got me into trouble? Why hadn't I kept my big mouth shut? You'd think I'd have learned my lesson by now, but no, I had to go and get myself mired in yet another impossible bind. What I should have done was kick my own ass with the pointed toe of my boot. What was that old Pennsylvania Dutch saying my grandmother had frequently used—We Get Too Soon Old and Too Late Smart? “That would definitely be you,” I muttered to myself, driving around the back of the motel once again.

Hoping against hope that Sean had returned, I knocked on his motel room door repeatedly. No answer. “Where the hell are you?” I whispered between clenched teeth. I dug out my phone noting the time with dismay. 11:17 pm.

I returned to my car and for the first time since he'd left the Starfire, felt a twinge of trepidation as I turned onto the highway, heading towards home. No matter how I tried, I could not seem to shake the uneasy feeling. The fact that he'd ignored my text really agitated me. What if he had not returned by morning? I could only imagine the disastrous scene with my parents. I sighed heavily. Could my life possibly get more complicated? As the lights of town disappeared behind me, I was gripped by a sudden realization. Even though I was totally exhausted, I wasn't going to get one single wink of sleep unless I made an attempt to find Sean, even though he was a grown man and didn't need his big sister chasing after him. But, as I drove further into the desert another thought kept bugging me. Considering his recent arrest and lifelong propensity for irresponsible behavior, how smart was it to ignore the fact that he was in the company of the Hinkle brothers? What if he got into serious trouble?

“Shit!” I wrenched the wheel in a U-turn and headed back towards town, winding my way along darkened streets towards the southwestern part of Castle Valley where I would not normally venture this time of night. As I cruised past a series of boarded up businesses and crumbling homes with overgrown front yards crammed with junk and abandoned vehicles, I began to doubt myself. What was I doing? What if he wasn't even here?

The commotion from the Rattlesnake Saloon reached my ears before the garish neon beer signs plastered all over the front of the rambling structure jumped into view. I lowered the window and listened to the lively strains of country rock music mingled with hooting, hollering and bursts of raucous laughter. Tally would be furious if he knew I was planning to enter the place alone, as it was notorious as a hangout for druggies, lowlifes, troublemakers and biker gangs. It was not unusual to have the sheriff summoned at least once or twice a month to break up fights.

I drove around the packed, dimly lit parking area searching in vain for a spot among the assortment of Jeeps, SUVs, pickups, rattletrap old cars and a half dozen Harleys. Nothing. “Oh, come on,” I moaned, circling once again. The second run through I spied the Hinkles' jacked up black pickup, complete with oversized tires and the words BAD BOY printed on the back window. Like the Hinkle brothers themselves, it looked large and intimidating. So, Jim's hunch had been correct. Craning my neck in both directions, I maneuvered past several groups of people drinking and talking, but could not find a single open space. The fact that I even had to be here looking for my brother at this time of night irritated the crap out of me. Damn him. Tomorrow would be a long day of driving and I desperately needed to get a good night's sleep.

After a third swing around, I gave up and headed towards the far end of the dirt lot designated for overflow parking. It was going to be quite a hike back to the saloon. Slowly approaching the murky corner of the lot, thick with towering, untended oleander bushes and shaggy, neglected date palms, the sound of raised voices caught my attention. Deep in the shadows to my left sat two vehicles parked side by side. Suddenly, I heard a male voice shout, “You don't have a choice! You do what I tell you, or face the consequences. Now take this and get the hell out of my face, you pussy!”

In the dim light, I was able to make out a man, attired in what appeared to be a white dress shirt and tie, throw something into the driver's side of a darkish-colored pickup.

“Keep your damn blood money!” another masculine voice hollered back. Laughing manically, the man jumped into a low-slung sports car. The engine roared, the lights flashed on and the guy accelerated in front of me so fast, gravel sprayed at my pristine new Jeep. “Watch out, you moron!” I screamed, hearing the sharp pop of rocks hitting my grill and windshield. Hot with fury, I pounded the horn and watched the expensive-looking, silver car race through the lot at breakneck speed and squeal onto the pavement. In a matter of seconds, the taillights vanished around the corner.

More than curious about the altercation, I pulled into the newly vacant space just as the pickup's engine started. I wanted to get a look at the driver, and in the low light could just barely make out the silhouette of a man wearing glasses and a ball cap. The truck had an emblem or something written on the driver side door, but it was too dark to read it. As he tore out of the parking spot, I thought it seemed odd that he had raised his left hand as if to shield his face from me. I sat there in the ensuing silence pondering what I'd just witnessed—a drug deal gone sour or something else? I would probably never know, but their brief conversation had intrigued me. Shouldering my purse, I stepped out of my car and marched purposefully towards the saloon, wondering why an apparently well-heeled guy driving a sports car would be hanging around a rowdy place like this. What was the meaning of his obvious threat to the other man and the puzzling rejoinder about blood money? Momentarily distracted from the task at hand, I had to force my mind to refocus as I approached the entrance. Oh no. I'd have to pass through the cluster of men loitering outside smoking, laughing and shooting the breeze to get to the front door. I braced for the anticipated personal remarks likely to be thrown my way. There were a couple of wolf whistles to start and then one burly guy with a leather vest who wore a bandana wrapped around his forehead remarked, “Well, now, ain't you somethin' to look at!” Leering, he raised his beer bottle in my direction while his dark eyes swept over me. “I've always been real partial to tall, beautiful redheads. Buy you a drink, sweet lady?”

I suppressed a shiver. “No, thanks.” I hurried through the noxious cloud of smoke, ignoring several other lewd invitations shouted out behind me. Classy bunch.

Deafening music along with the strong odor of sweat and alcohol greeted me as I stepped inside the jam-packed cowboy bar. I jostled my way through the mass of chattering men and women hunting for Sean among those perched at the bar on stools and gathered around small tables, drinking. No luck. Having been inside the building only once before during the daylight hours on one of my assignments, I knew there was a labyrinth of other rooms to explore, plus several outdoor patios.

I squeezed my way through the crush of patrons into the next room, also crammed with boisterous people laughing, drinking and conversing in loud voices. The sizeable dance floor was filled with couples hoofing it to the beat of a popular country song. Quite a lively place. Watching everyone having such a good time, I momentarily lamented the fact that I'd not had the chance to dance with Tally at the barbeque. I watched the dancers for a few more minutes and then canvassed the entire room with no results. With a growing sense of frustration, I continued my search through the adjacent cavernous room only to feel another rush of disappointment. He wasn't at any of the six pool tables, nor was he playing any of the blinking, dinging video games or slot machines. Was it possible he wasn't here at all? And if not, where was he?

The only places left to search were two outdoor patios—the spacious, well-lit one with rows of long picnic tables and also a smaller, more private one at the rear of the building. I had my hand on the door leading to the large patio when I heard shrill laughter behind me. Turning, I saw two young women, both on their cell phones, lurch out of the ladies room. I immediately recognized them as having been with Sean at the Starfire earlier. Well, well. Finally some progress. I followed them along the wood-paneled hallway leading towards the small patio. Judging by their goofy behavior— staggering, giggling, almost falling, it appeared they were either drunk or high on drugs. Or both.

A refreshing gust of wind hit me in the face when I stepped outside into the dimly lit enclosure bordered by tall oleander bushes. I searched for Sean, but except for a few couples huddled around tables tucked away in secluded corners, the area appeared deserted. Odd. I turned back in time to see the girls careen around the building and disappear. Where could they be going? I broke into a run and rounded the back of the saloon in time to see them stumbling into the open desert heading towards a roaring bonfire. Employing stealth, I quietly sneaked after them. Drawing closer, I ducked behind a conveniently placed saguaro cactus. There appeared to be at least a dozen young people gathered around the flickering firelight listening to the mellow strains of guitar music. Immediate concern gripped me when I spotted my brother sitting next to one of the Hinkle brothers. Wearing a silly half grin and apparently stoned, Sean stared at the flames with a sort of glassy-eyed fascination.

It was disconcerting to witness a young guy with shoulder length blonde hair crawling around on the ground mumbling gibberish while another kid sat nearby on the ground cross-legged, rocking back and forth gazing into space as if in a trance, his hands cupping the air periodically as if he were trying to catch a really slow-moving bug.

The girls I'd been following playfully pulled one of the Hinkle twins to his feet and began dancing suggestively with him. Seated a little further from the fire were two other young men lounging against some boulders, smoking what I assumed to be pot while three dark-haired young women, their eyes outlined in charcoal and wearing black lipstick, performed strange undulating movements to the mystical-sounding music within a Pentagram someone had spray-painted on the ground.

Alarm bells sounded in my ears when I glanced back and noticed one of the Hinkle brothers holding the flame of a cigarette lighter beneath a small square of foil. He inserted a small tube in one nostril, positioned it against the foil and inhaled sharply. Then he threw his head back and pinched his nose momentarily before shouting, “Whoo hoo! Feel the burn!” He then extended the tube to Sean, who sat munching on potato chips. A skanky-looking girl with purple hair, a star tattooed on one cheek and enough studs and rings on her face and ears to open a jewelry store, knelt at his feet with her head leaning against his knees. Sean handed the bag of chips to her and eagerly accepted the offering. He ducked his head, took a hit and then looked up in watery-eyed surprise, his face contorted in pain. “Shit, man! That burns like hell!”

“Give it a minute, ” advised the Hinkle boy. “You're gonna like it.”

At that instant the sickening truth hit me. My brother was far more than a pothead. For extended seconds, I debated what to do. Before I could even formulate a plan, instinct took over. I rushed forward out of the darkness, scaring the hallucinating kids so much, they both screamed like banshees, then rounded the bonfire and knocked the tube from Sean's hand. It hit a nearby rock and bounced out of sight.

“Hey, bitch! What the hell are you doing?” snarled Danny or Daryl, staring at me looking dazed. I had trouble telling them apart. Built like tanks, they both looked equally menacing with their thick necks, wide bulldog jowls, blunt upturned noses with flared pig-like nostrils and deep-set hooded eyes of ice blue. Hair buzzed short, they each sported a limp, blonde goatee. This one had a spike stuck through his left earlobe. In any other situation I might have felt endangered, but these doofuses appeared to be so out of it they probably posed no real threat. But it did give me a small measure of comfort to have the .38 tucked in my purse. Okay. Now that I had injected myself into this situation, I wasn't really sure how to proceed. Ignoring the plethora of expletives directed at me, I put my hand on Sean's shoulder and got right in his face. “Come on, it's time to go.”

He blinked up at me looking stupefied. “Whoa! Kenny! Where'd you come from? Hey, I'm super-happy to see you! You…wow! Look at that! Your hair…it looks amazing in the firelight. It's like…a million rainbow sparks shooting out of your head. And it's like I can see each single strand of red hair! It's awesome.” He shook his head in wonder. “I wish I had a mirror so you could see how red your hair is! It's…I mean…like scarlet and like…bright as the sun!” He paused, looking confused, and then murmured, “Did I say it looks really, really red?”

My concern intensified. “Sean, are you all right? What are you on anyway?”

“Mmm…not sure,” he said, grinning foolishly. “But, this is good shit. Super-good.”

I stared at him, astounded. “So you don't even know what you just…sniffed up your nose?”

His pupils looked dilated. “No, but it's totally awesome.” He tried to wink at me and failed. “We're so not done partying. I'm not going yet.”