Sandrift: A Lin Hanna Mystery (8 page)

“That’s great,
Mr. Davis,” she noted his name tag, “but please call me Lin.”

“And I’m Bob,”
he offered his hand. “What about your friend?
 
Does he want to volunteer also?” he
nodded in Neal’s direction.

“He’s a
professor of archeology, I’m not sure how he would feel about herding
elementary kids around,” Lin joked.

“Really,” Bob
said, “we just got another grant, or rather The First Colony Foundation did, to
do some more surveys around the site.
 
We had a dig a couple of years ago that found some artifacts from the
right time period for the lost colony. Scholars are still looking for answers
here.
 
I’m sure your friend would be
interested in that.”

Having
overheard this part of the conversation, Neal came over and was soon engaged in
a lively conversation with Bob Davis.
 
Lin took the time to complete the volunteer application and checked the
schedule of field trips for the coming weeks.
 
She chose two dates for the upcoming
week and signed up to lead the groups.
 
The next week she signed up for two more groups, but she decided to
forego the third week.
 
That would
be just prior to the arrival of her family for the holidays and she thought she
might need more time to prepare for their visit.
 
She returned the form and the calendar
to Bob.

“This is great,
it’ll be so helpful for our staff,” he smiled.

“If I find I
have more free time, I’ll come help some additional days—if that would be
ok.
 
I’m just not sure how busy I’ll
be later getting ready for holiday visitors.”

“That would be
fine.
 
We can always use some additional
help around the grounds and here at the center. Plan to come anytime you feel
you can.
 
What about a uniform?”

“ I saw that
Kate had a couple and we are about the same size,” Lin said. “I can probably
use one of hers.”

“I’ll see you
next Monday,” Lin offered her hand to the ranger.

“And I’ll be by
this Friday to meet the archeology crew.
 
Maybe I can be of some help to them,” Neal seemed enthusiastic about the
possible opportunity.

Bob Davis gave
Lin a folder of reading material she could use to prepare for talking with the
school groups.
 
“See you Monday,” he
smiled.
 
Turning to Neal he
explained, “I won’t be here on Friday.
 
I have to work tomorrow—we’re open on Thanksgiving—so Friday
is my ‘holiday’ but I’ll let the ranger on duty know you are coming.
 
She can introduce you to the archeology
crew and I feel sure they’ll be delighted to have your help.”

Lin was pleased
with the results of their visit.
 
She knew she would enjoy helping out, and she was especially happy that
Neal had found something he might be interested in doing also.

As they drove
out of the park, Lin noticed that it was already past noon.
 
“I’m not really hungry after that big
breakfast this morning, and we probably need to head back home.
 
Sparky might be feeling neglected.
 
He loves to take walks and play.”

“You may not be
hungry, but I could use a sandwich or something,” Neal replied. “Then we could
take Sparky out somewhere—a little windy for the beach though.”

“How about Nags
Head Woods,” Lin offered.

“You want to
return to where you found Dorrie’s remains? I thought you wanted to forget
about that.” Neal seemed surprised.

“Actually, I’m
feeling much calmer now,” Lin offered. “I realize that accidents like this
happen.
 
I’ve gotten over my initial
shock; besides, I plan to call Matt and Sara Johnson tonight, and I could
possibly give them a better sense of what might have happened if I revisit the
scene when I’m able to focus more clearly on the surroundings.
 
I’ll be fine…” Lin reached for Neal’s
hand and squeezed it reassuringly.

Neal didn’t say
anything more about Lin’s suggestion as they drove across the Baum Bridge and
turned toward Kate’s home.
 
Instead
he chatted enthusiastically about meeting the archeologists at Ft. Raleigh on
Friday and the possibility that he might volunteer to help with their
survey.
 
When they arrived home, he
headed for the kitchen to make himself some lunch while Lin went upstairs to
change into jeans and a sweatshirt.
 
When she’d dressed, she went back downstairs and poured herself a glass
of milk.
 
That was all she really
wanted.
 
She joined Neal at the
kitchen table.
 
He had finished his
sandwich and was working on a crossword puzzle.
 
“Sure you don’t want something to eat?”
he smiled at her as she joined him.

“Not really
hungry,” she replied, “this will hold me until dinner.
 
I thought it might be fun to try Capt.
George’s Seafood Buffet tonight.
 
I’ve heard it’s fabulous—anything you want and all you can eat,”
she grinned.

“Then, that’s
the plan,” Neal agreed.
 
He put his
puzzle aside and reached for her hand.

“I’ve been
thinking about all Sheriff Midgett said—or rather didn’t say—this
morning, Lin.
 
I know you have a lot
of questions, so do I, and I know you.
 
I don’t think you’ll be able to forget about all of this until you’ve
found some answers.
 
I understand
this.
 
I have questions myself, and
I can only imagine how the Johnsons must feel but…” Neal’s voice caught a bit,
“I don’t want to see you get hurt, and I’m afraid of what might happen if you
get further involved in all this, after what happened last spring…”

“I’m not going
to get involved—there really isn’t anything to get involved in here,” Lin
sought to reassure him,
 
“Liz
Frazier’s murder is certainly a cold case—I doubt that anything new could
be learned about that anyway—and Dorrie died from an allergic reaction to
a bee sting.
 
The only real mystery
is her past involvement with Liz and what she was trying to do by coming
here.
 
I’ll call Matt Johnson
tonight and share what we heard today.
 
That’s really all I can do and I do feel I should do that much.
 
I don’t know if Dorrie killed Liz or not,
but I’m sure that the sheriff really has no proof and that should help her
parents feel better, at least I hope it will.”

Neal squeezed
her hand and smiled, “ Me too, I want you to know that I do support you in
this—I do understand but please be careful.
 
I need you to be safe—both
physically and emotionally,” Neal said softly, “you’re so important to me,
Lin.”

Lin rose and
walked behind Neal’s chair.
 
She put
her arms around him and leaned her head against his, “You’re important to me
too,” she replied.

At that moment
Sparky bounded into the room.
 
He
raced toward the door where his leash was dangling from a hat rack and began to
jump up and down and bark.

“Let’s go to
walk,” Neal laughed. “No more talk.
 
Sparky’s ready for action.”

The sun
filtered through the taller trees dappling the path with light as they crossed
the wooden bridges that spanned the brackish water at the start of the
trail.
 
It was chillier than it had
been when Lin and Sparky were there during the past weekend.
 
Lin was glad she’d added her fleece
jacket over her sweatshirt.
 
Neal
had also dressed warmly.
 
He held
Sparky’s retractable leash and allowed it to play out a bit so that the eager
canine could trot ahead of them as the trail began to ascend the old dunes into
the maritime forest.
 
Lin noted that
there were still a few wildflowers blooming along the edge of the trail though
the cooler temperatures seemed to have curbed the insects.
 
At least Lin didn’t observe any bees as
she had before.
 
She couldn’t help
but think that Dorrie might have been safe had the day of her ill-fated walk
not been a warm one.
 
Why didn’t she
have her epipen with her? That question still bothered her, especially given
what her parents had said about how severe her allergy was.

Neal and Sparky
had gotten ahead of her.
 
She saw
that they were approaching the part of the trail that curved down the hill above
the water where Dorrie’s remains had been found.

“Hold up,” she
called. “I’m coming.
 
I think this
is the place where Sparky went off the trail—where he found Dorrie.”

She started
down the hill, stopping when she recognized the slope where the dog had gone
down and where she had taken her spill.
 
The litter on the forest floor revealed where she’d landed and slid on
her bottom.

“This is the
place,” Lin said, remembering.

She jumped back
with a start as Neal placed his hand on her backside and gave her a friendly
pat. “So this is where that lovely green and yellow bruise came from,” he
teased.

“Stop that!”
Lin gave him a playful shove. “ Let’s go down—but carefully—it
looks as if the water is lower than when I was here before.”
 
She indicated a depression that was
disturbed along the muddy apron of the pond, “I think the body was here, but it
was partially covered in water when we first saw it.
 
This water must connect somehow to the
sound and the tide must be low.”

“Could be,”
Neal agreed as the made their way carefully down the slope, “good thing we wore
old shoes.
 
Sparky may need a bath.”

Lin looked up
to see that the dog was pawing vigorously in the now exposed mud, part of the
area that would have been underwater when they found Dorrie’s remains.

“Sparky, stop
that.
 
Come here!” she called.
 
Neal tried to help by reeling in the
leash. Sparky resisted.
 
He pawed
vigorously at an object buried in the soft mud.

“What’s he
got?” Lin began to slog her way toward the spot where Sparky continued to
dig.
 
No matter, she would have to
wash these shoes anyway she thought.

Sparky had
uncovered a small rectangular box that had a round hole on one end and an oval
opening along one side.
 
Some sort
of wire mesh covered the oval opening.
 
Lin picked up the object and attempted to wipe away some of the mud.

“ What do you
make of this?” she handed the box to Neal.

He examined it
with a shrug. “I’ve never seen anything like this before, maybe its some sort
of bait box—something a fisherman might use for live bait,” he casually
tossed the object back on the mud flat.

“You’re
probably right,” Lin said. “It would’ve been underwater when we were here
before. Ken Parker told me they searched the trail and I’m sure they searched
this area also.
 
I think they were
looking for an epipen that Dorrie might have lost along the way.
 
They might not have seen this though.”
She retrieved the strange little box from where it had landed.

“I don’t think
an epipen would have been in a container like that,” Neal joked, “bring it
along, though.
 
I’m curious as to
what it might be, anyway.
 
Maybe
someone can tell us.”

“Done,” Lin
said.
 
She carried the object in her
hand, not wanting to get the sticky mud in her pocket.

They continued
their walk around the area and back up to the trail.
 
Lin tried to mentally record the scene
so that she could give Dorrie’s parents some idea of what might’ve happened to
her.
 
Had she been stung along the
trail and tried to reach the water for relief?
 
Did she fall and slide in?
 
Did she actually die from anaphylactic
shock or did the shock cause her to fall and drown?
 
Lin knew what she had been told by Ken
Parker, but she began to realize that she really didn’t have full
information.
 
Perhaps the Johnsons
had been given a copy of the medical examiner’s report.
 
That would probably answer these
questions.
 
Lin caught herself as
she realized that she also wanted to know these details.
 
Of course, it really didn’t matter, she
thought.
 
The end result for Dorrie
had been the same.
 
The same old
question arose, why did she not have her epipen with her?
 
In the back of her mind Lin thought, I’d
really like to talk to Ken Parker again—maybe explore a few more details
from the medical report.
 
She tried
to push this thought aside.
  
She had no good reason to seek more information.
 
Matt and Sara Johnson probably already
had the report and they would share the information if they chose to do so.

By this time
Lin and Neal had regained the higher part of the trail.
 
They continued their walk until they
came back around to the reserve’s entrance area.
 
It was really a beautiful place.
 
Lin was glad to have completed the walk
that had been cut short earlier.

“We’re pretty
messy,” Neal observed as they approached Kate’s Jeep in the parking lot.
“Unless we want to have a major clean up job to do with this vehicle, we’d better
take our shoes and socks off.”

Lin realized
that they not only had dirty shoes, the bottoms of their jeans were muddy as
well.
 
They removed the shoes and
socks and rolled the dirty jeans up to their knees to protect the car’s
interior.
 
Sparky was relegated to
the back of the vehicle where there was a rubber mat.

“Well, I was
going to suggest we stop for coffee before we went back home but I think we’d
better not try that,” Lin laughed. “This being a beach community most places
adhere to a ‘no shoes, no service’ policy.”

***

Like so many
homes in coastal areas, Kate’s was raised on piers and the area beneath the
main level had an outdoor shower, sink, and faucet for cleaning up from beach
excursions.
 
The laundry room was
there also.
 
Both areas were at
least partially protected from view.
 
Neal managed to clean Sparky’s feet and he and Lin stripped off their
jeans and tossed them into the washer along with their shoes and socks before
they went upstairs.

“I now
understand why these homes have such facilities outside,” he smiled as they
entered the kitchen.
 

“Protects the
house from sand and such,” Lin agreed. “The sink is good for cleaning fish but,”
she hastened to add, “don’t count on me to do any of that.”

Neal grinned at
her, ”I’m not much of a fisherman, but I’ve always wanted to try a deep sea
fishing trip—maybe when Ben and Brian come…”

“I think they
would love that,” she responded.
 
“I
know they’ve both been before, and they’ve mentioned perhaps doing some fishing
while they’re here, provided the weather cooperates.”

“Maybe, I’ll
check it out,” Neal responded, “Now I think we need to check out the shower
upstairs before we have dinner.”

Lin grinned and
shook her head, “I recall the last time we tried to shower together—this
shower is not so large or luxurious…”

“We’ll manage,”
Neal
laughed, “where’s your sense of adventure?
Besides, I think I should check out that bruise.
 
I need to be sure it’s healing properly.”

***

Later, after
they returned from feasting on seafood at Capt. George’s, Lin placed her call
to Matt Johnson.
 
His voice sounded
tired when he answered.
 
Lin could
hear the concern and worry he must be feeling.

Using her notes
to make sure she didn’t leave anything out, she related what they’d learned in
their conversation with the Sheriff.
 
There was really not much information that hadn’t been available in the
news accounts that the Johnsons had probably already seen.

“Honestly,” Lin
added when she had finished reviewing the facts, “the case against Dorrie seems
to be based mostly on circumstantial evidence.
 
Of course, it will never be heard in
court, but I seriously doubt any charges could’ve been proven.”
 
Lin realized she was drawing conclusions,
but she wanted to be able to provide this father and mother with some sense of
comfort.

“I do
appreciate your sharing this information, Ms. Hanna,” Matt said, “and I wish I
could say that’s enough for us, but I simply can’t let this go.
 
I realize that we may never know the
extent to which Dorrie may have been involved in this case—after all,
that trail is more than ten years old—but we want to try to find out what
Dorrie was doing when she was there recently.
 
She told us she wanted to repay Liz
Frazier what she owed her, and we believed her.
 
If she knew Liz was dead that would’ve
made no sense at all.
 
Someone had
to have seen her and talked to her before she died,” there was a catch in his
voice.

“Sheriff
Midgett indicated they were looking into that…”Lin started to respond but Matt
cut her off.

“I’m afraid I
have no confidence in that.
 
I don’t
believe the Sheriff will seriously investigate Dorrie’s death or the events
preceding it.
 
After all, why should
he—it was an accident and a happy one as far as he's concerned,” Matt Johnson
sounded bitter. “We’ve been able to gain access to Dorrie’s financial records
since we returned, and there’s no indication anywhere that she ever had any
stolen jewelry; nothing like that was found in her safe deposit box or in her
home.
 
No large infusion of cash
went into any of her accounts, nothing.
 
If she stole valuable jewelry, why didn’t she cash in?
 
Instead, she went to a shelter for
help.”

What he was
saying made sense to Lin.
 
She had
thought of the same questions.
 
She
also doubted Sheriff Midgett cared enough to seriously pursue an investigation
of the dead girl’s movements and activities.

Lin realized
that Matt was still talking, though her own thoughts had wandered.

“We’ve tried to
find a private investigator locally, but there’s no one.
 
The guy we talked to in Richmond said he’d
go down there, but that would cost a fortune what with expenses and all,” Matt
lamented. “He said to talk to the local cops so where does that leave us.”
 

Before she
fully realized what she was saying, Lin found herself offering to make some
local inquiries and see what she could learn about Dorrie’s activities.
 
She didn’t think the Sheriff would be
helpful, but she remembered that Ken Parker seemed to be more understanding.

“I could talk
to a local police officer I met during all of this,” Lin offered. “I don’t
think his department is actually involved directly any more, but he might be
able to help in some fashion.”

“We’d certainly
appreciate anything you could do to help,” Matt sounded relieved. “I thought
about coming down myself—and I still may—but Sara is still so
upset.
 
She can’t even talk about it,
and I don’t want to put her through any more.
 
I don’t think I should leave her here
alone…”

“No, you
shouldn’t,” Lin agreed. “I’ll see what I can find out and let you know.”

As she
concluded her conversation, promising to talk to Matt again sometime the
following week, Lin realized that Neal was standing in the doorway to the
office.
 
He had obviously heard the
last part of her conversation, and he didn’t look happy.

Lin felt a bit
annoyed to think that Neal disapproved of what she was doing.
 
After all, it was her choice.
 
It was her decision.
 
She rose from her seat fully expecting
Neal to object to her plans.

Even though his
concern and disapproval was clearly evident in his demeanor, Neal said
nothing.
 
Instead, he came over and
put his arms around her drawing her to him in a warm embrace.

“Promise me
you’ll be careful,” he murmured,
 
“don’t
forget, if Dorrie Johnson didn’t kill Liz Frazier, there could be a murderer out
there still; one who has escaped notice for more than ten years.”