Collecting Shadows Page 23

  The familiar dream returned and he woke up in sweat-drenched sheets. His necklace with the wooden cross had come out of his shirt. He rose, swung his legs over, and sat on the side of the bed rubbing his eyes. When his vision of the dream cleared, he saw his flush face in the mirror across the room. He ran a hand through his messy hair trying to smooth it out. Pilot was lying nearby and lifted his head. The clock read 1:49 a.m.

  Liam tucked the wooden cross back inside his shirt and started to lie back down, but paused. Something was gnawing at him. He thought back to how nice the Thanksgiving meal had been. How good it was to have Aunt Rita and Drew eating at the table with him.

  Drew.

  Liam remembered Drew’s story of being temporarily trapped in the shed after freeing a cat. Drew had lifted a tarp in the corner and found a strip of metal twisted in the shape of a half-moon. He had called it modern art, but was it?

  It was a long shot, but Liam had to find the shed. There was no way Aunt Rita or Drew would let him trespass on private property, and he didn’t want to get Bailey in trouble. The risk would be his, and his alone.

  Putting on his tennis shoes and a light jacket, he grabbed his keys and a small flashlight from the nightstand, then turned his light out. “Pilot, stay,” he whispered.

  Through the dark, Liam felt his way along the hallway and found the stairs. He knew Drew would be down there on the cot and might still be sleeping with the pistol. Liam took each step slowly, listening to Drew’s snores, praying he wouldn’t wake. Liam reached the first floor, aided by moonlight seeping in through the store windows, and took the hallway to the back door. Carefully, he gripped the string of bells to muffle the jingle and removed them. Then he slowly exited the door, locking it behind him.

  As soon as he reached the back alley, a chill ran up his spine. Not from the cool air, but from the vulnerability he felt. Out on the streets, he would be exposed to the killer if the man was still around.

  Nervously, Liam made his way to King Street. Flagler’s eminent structures—Hotel Ponce de León and Hotel Alcazar—were ablaze in white Christmas lights in the distance. He was surprised they were illuminated this late.

  With the Flagler College students gone for the holiday, the town was eerily quiet. The few bars and restaurants which had been open this evening had long since closed. A single vehicle passed by on the street, and Liam watched it anxiously. If the local police saw him out this late, they might think he was up to no good, so he crossed the street and double-timed it.

  The brilliant radiance of white Christmas lights ahead suddenly disappeared, dimming the landscape. It happened so fast, it caused his breath to catch. Liam froze. Then he realized why. It was 2 a.m.: the time the city shut the lights off each night.

  Resuming his trek under the glow of streetlights, he cut into the Flagler Model Land Company neighborhood. Liam alternated between the street and sidewalk. While the street felt safer under lights, the sidewalk was more concealing in case someone was after him. The neighborhood, which seemed so tranquil in the daylight, felt dangerous in the dark. He passed by Memorial Presbyterian Church, constantly checking all around him, as the sounds of the night were magnified. The smell of the brick street was comforting and disconcerting at the same time. Somewhere in the distance he heard the wail of a siren, but it quickly faded.

  As Liam crossed over Saragossa Street, he heard a sharp crack behind him. Someone or something had stepped on a branch. His pulse skyrocketed. He considered running, but instead wheeled around. A figure closed on him quickly.

  Liam ran, sprinting in terror up the sidewalk.

  “Liam,” a voice called to him in a loudly forced whisper.

  He stopped, recognizing the voice.

  The man approached quickly.

  “You scared the crap out of me,” Liam said to Drew.

  “What are you doing out here?”

  Liam paused to catch his breath. “You mentioned a shed on Grove Avenue. The object you described inside, the thing under the tarp, may be the sundial from Kirkside.”

  “And you thought it was a good idea to go out in the middle of the night to check?”

  “Drew, we’ve got to get to the treasure first.”

  “You don’t know if there is a treasure.”

  “I’m going. You’re welcome to join me, but I’m going.” Liam walked away.

  He heard Drew exhale. “Wait up. I’ll show you where it is. At least with the gun, we’ve got protection.”

  There was a moment of silence while they walked before Drew said, “I know what your father did. I was a cop. It was something I was trained to do.”

  “Well Dad wasn’t a cop. He wasn’t paid to protect people he didn’t know. I’d rather not talk about this.”

  “Fair enough. Let me say one last thing. Good people are good people for a reason. They have what I call the good gene in them. They know right from wrong. From what I’ve heard, your father had that good gene, and in that instant, in that millisecond, he had to make the decision to save the teenage girl. He didn’t have time to weigh all the variables. He reacted instinctively, letting his good gene guide him.”

  Liam grew angry. “His good gene screwed up. It left me without my father.”

  “I’m sorry, Liam. I truly am. I just hope one day you’ll forgive him; not just for him, but for yourself. Because until you do, you’ll never be able to move on with your life. Trust me. This is coming from someone who knows.”

  Liam considered what Drew said, but only briefly. Now wasn’t the time to dwell on such things.

  They slipped carefully through the grounds toward the concourse that divided the public parking garage and the Visitor Information Center. Several homeless people were sleeping on the public picnic tables and didn’t seem to be aware of their presence.

  They angled toward San Marco Avenue. The streets remained desolate. The next was Grove Avenue. Drew led, pushing ahead along the tight sidewalk. It was unusually dark here, and Liam saw why. One of the streetlights was out.

  “We better whisper from here on,” Drew said.

  They continued down the sidewalk passing several houses. Drew stopped. “This is where I cut through.” He led Liam behind a two-story house. A shed came into view next to a bush.

  Wordlessly, they crept through the yard and reached the shed door. Drew pushed it open, and the two stepped inside. Drew closed the door, leaving them in total darkness. Liam was struck by the strong stench of oil possibly mixed with gas.

  Drew whispered, “I remember a light switch on the wall.” With a click, the shed lit up. “We’ve got to move quickly. Someone might see the light coming through the frame.”

  Liam saw a riding lawn mower and an assortment of gardening equipment. Drew headed to the back left corner where a black tarp was draped over a low object. He pulled it back, revealing a bent strip of rusted metal in a half-moon-shaped curve. It was similar to the armillary sundial replacement in the garden outside Memorial Presbyterian Church, except that it was missing the arrow which should have connected the two ends at a 45-degree angle.

  Liam lifted the object. It was affixed to a hardwood square base. Please, let this be the one from Kirkside. He turned it over and angled the surface toward the light.

  22 16 23 22 21 13 15

  Liam felt a charge of adrenaline. “This is it. See the numbers?”

  “That’s good, but we better get out of here.”

  Liam handed Drew the upside-down armillary sundial. “Please hold this.” He pulled a nub of pencil and the paper with the codes from his pocket. He quickly jotted them down, and double-checked for accuracy. “Got it,” he said, returning the pencil and paper to his pocket.

  Drew placed the sundial back on the ground and covered it. He heard a door slam somewhere outside. Instinctively, he flipped the light off. The shed was bathed in darkness. Outside, people were talking. It was difficult to make out what was being said. More voices joined in, accompanied by static.

  “Police,” Drew whi
spered. “Not good.”

  Liam swallowed hard.

  The voices came closer. They seemed to be coming from between the houses. Someone must have heard them or saw the light and called the police.

  “Liam, stay until the police are gone. Then get home to your aunt.”

  “What do you—?” Before Liam could finish, Drew pulled the door inward and raced outside. Liam barely stopped himself from shouting. There were a flurry of shouts, and a man’s voice yelled, “Stop.” Red and blue lights swept the yard, then the voices and sounds moved away.

  Dammit, Drew. Why did you do that?

  Liam took the opportunity to dash to the back of the house. Floodlights erupted, illuminating the entire area. He found himself panting, back pressed against the wall, standing over a flat stone. He glanced down to see the inscription: Bruce. Below the name was 1979.

  The chatter returned, coming from the street somewhere in front of the house. Two men were talking. A car door slammed, then another.

  Liam couldn’t wait any longer, he raced ahead as fast as he could run, streaking toward the back of the yard. With no fence to stop him, he rushed across a neighbor’s lawn, keeping to the shadows. Darting along the side of a house, his foot clipped something, and he tumbled to the ground. The pain was intense, but he willed himself up and hobbled forward until he reached the next street. Across the road, Francis Field was completely dark. Liam continued across and slowed to a walk, knowing he would draw less attention, and giving the ache in his foot a chance to stop.

  He reached the Flagler Model Land Company neighborhood and paused, hoping Drew would catch up to him, but he knew in his heart Drew had sacrificed himself. The police had most likely arrested Drew for trespassing.

  Then a horrible thought occurred to Liam: Drew was carrying a weapon.

  64

  When Liam returned to the shop, Aunt Rita and Pilot met him at the door. “What were you doing outside? Where is Drew?”

  Liam felt terrible about what had happened. He stepped past her, “I can explain.”

  “Explain what?”

  “I think Drew has been arrested.”

  “What? Why?”

  Liam left her standing at the door. “Because of me. He did it because of me.” He explained in detail what had happened.

  “So you thought continuing your treasure hunt in the middle of the night was a good idea?” She was livid.

  She wasn’t being fair. “Hey, I didn’t ask Drew to come with me.”

  His aunt’s eyes fixed on him. “He went with you to protect you. Can’t you see that? Then he fled the shed to lead the police away from you so you wouldn’t get in trouble.”

  Liam hung his head. “I know.” In a small voice, he said, “Aunt Rita, Drew had your gun with him.”

  “Oh, Jesus Christ,” his aunt said, slapping her forehead. “The police are not going to like that.” Aunt Rita went to the coat rack and grabbed her jacket. “I’m going to the police station. Did you see if it was the local police or county?”

  Liam shook his head.

  “I’ll try St. Augustine Police first. At least I can let them know the pistol is mine, and he didn’t steal it.” She took the stairway. “I need my purse.”

  Liam waited for her to return downstairs.

  “I didn’t mean to get him in trouble,” Liam said. He felt like shit.

  “Lock the door behind me.”

  After Aunt Rita was gone, Liam retreated to his bedroom. He felt so crappy about Drew, he nearly forgot he’d obtained the fifth numeric clue. He deciphered it and came up with: of Ponce. Liam took the string of clues, and inserted the new one from the sundial.

  For treasure - in Florida - see back of - of Ponce - ______ - de León

  This couldn’t be right. The sentence couldn’t have the word “of” repeated back-to-back. He checked the translation from the fanlight window code. They were correct and spelled, “see back of.” He wondered if this was proof the clues were gibberish; nothing more than jumbled words from Henry Flagler’s mentally ill wife. Liam felt overwhelming confusion. First, he had gotten Drew arrested, and now the clues made no freakin’ sense.

  He started to text Bailey, then noticed the time: 3:08 a.m. No need to wake her up to announce his failures.

  Liam lay in bed with the lights on thinking of Mr. Mast and Drew. He hoped his aunt could convince the authorities not to press charges and let him go. All in all, it had been a miserable night.

  Without waiting for an invite, Pilot jumped on the bed and laid down beside him.

  ****

  Liam jumped up, scaring Pilot off the bed. He had drifted to sleep, but it hadn’t been for long.

  A shuffling noise came from downstairs. “Liam, I’m home.”

  It was Aunt Rita. The clock showed 4:46 a.m. Liam stood and groggily made his way to the kitchen just before Aunt Rita arrived. To his chagrin, she was alone.

  “They’ve got him locked up because he had my gun. He’s been charged with carrying a concealed weapon without a license and armed trespassing. I’m going to lie back down for a while.”

  “What about Drew?”

  “For the time being, he stays there. I’ll get ahold of an attorney later this morning. God knows I can’t afford one, but I’ve got to do something. I did get one good piece of news. The police feel certain the man who shot Mrs. Manacia and that other girl through the door of the house has left town.”

  Liam nodded.

  “Oh, and I talked to Drew. He assured me it wasn’t your fault.”

  “Yes it was.”

  She rubbed his hair as she passed by. “We’ll get through this. I just need some sleep now. Oh, and I’m not opening the shop tomorrow…today. I never do much business on Black Friday anyway. Everybody’s at the malls and department stores. I’ll open back up on Saturday. With the official start of the holiday season, business will pick up. Hopefully. You’d better get some rest, too. You’ve been up most of the night.”

  Liam nodded.

  He did try, but he couldn’t fall back to sleep. He was too wound up. He thought about Drew. He recalled the brief conversation they had walking toward Grove Avenue, and Drew’s comment about some people having a good gene. He didn’t admit it at the time, but in a way, it made sense. If someone is good, they follow their instincts when they only have a split-second to react to a situation. For Liam’s father, saving the teenage girl was the right thing to do. Liam still didn’t like it, but maybe he was beginning to understand that his father hadn’t made a conscious decision at that instant in time. He did what he did because of who he was: a good man. It was exactly what Drew had done this evening. He had taken the fall for Liam, led police away so that Liam could escape. It appeared Drew, too, possessed the good gene.

  Liam turned his thoughts back to Ida Alice’s latest clue. The consecutive “of’s” were baffling. Not to mention that “of Ponce” and “de León” were separated by the staircase banister clue. Even when he tried to insert punctuation like a period or comma, he couldn’t make the sentence work.

  Frustrated, Liam got up at 6:45 when he heard movement in the hallway. His aunt was already dressed and in the kitchen drinking coffee.

  “Did you get any sleep?” he asked.

  “No, I’m going back to the police station. Please walk Pilot. I’ll be in touch.”

  “Okay.”

  At 7:00 a.m., Liam grabbed his jacket, leashed Pilot and set off. Daylight had yet to arrive, but it was only minutes away. The morning felt much colder than the previous night. Again the streets were quiet, with most of the town still asleep. Pilot, invigorated by the cool air, led Liam at an accelerated pace across the road. They passed Kirkside Apartments, which made Liam think of Bailey. Maybe fresh eyes might see something different in the clues and make sense of the sentence. He considered stopping but remembered that Bailey had said her mother was leaving the apartment by 7:20 this morning for Memphis. Liam would stop by after Mrs. Deeth left.

  Pilot continued on enthus
iastically. Liam blew hot breath on his free hand to warm it as Pilot found a spot to do his business. They walked for a while, then returned the way they had come. Pilot appeared confused as Liam knocked on Bailey’s apartment door. The door opened abruptly. “Pilot,” Bailey exclaimed. The dog rushed her, and she bent down to give him a hug.

  “And Liam,” he added with mock sarcasm.

  “And Liam,” she stood and said with a smile. “What brings you here?”

  “I found the sundial and the clue on it.”

  Her eyes widened. “No way.”

  Liam nodded.

  She quickly ushered him in. She was wearing rose-patterned pajamas and socks. Her hair was slightly mussed. To Liam, she was gorgeous.

  She excused herself and went into a bedroom, returning in a robe.

  “Is it okay for Pilot to be in your apartment?”

  “Of course. What about the clue?” she asked as they sat on her couch. Pilot continued to nuzzle Bailey’s legs for attention.

  Liam explained what had happened last night, including Drew’s arrest and incarceration.

  “Yikes,” Bailey remarked. “I understand you’re bummed about Drew getting arrested, but you did it. You found another clue. Aren’t you the least bit thrilled?”

  “I would be, but…” He pulled the sheet from his pocket and unfolded it. “Here’s the translated clue, along with the other four.”

  She read aloud, “For treasure in Florida see back of of Ponce ______ de León.” Bailey looked up quizzically at Liam. “Of of?”

  “See the problem? That, and the fact the staircase banister clue had a phrase that somehow goes between of Ponce and de León, we may have been following the code of someone who wasn’t in their right frame of mind.”

  “You mean someone crazy,” Bailey’s voice slackened.

  Liam had tried to pick his words delicately, and he had still failed. He sought to change the subject. “Any word on One’s mother?”

  “I texted him this morning. She’s been upgraded from critical to serious condition.”