It was dark and cold inside the shed—my shed, the Petition. I turned on all the lights, giving the space a helpful glow, and cranked up the heat. I’d been there at night before, sometimes writing until the early morning.
I had made it. It had been slow going, but I’d made it. I had the proper driving gear—the truck and its tires. However, the drive—I didn’t want to think of it as an escape, but I kind of did—had given me time not only to calm down, but also to think. I’d cycled through many things on that short but slow-going trip—fear, anger, embarrassment, even some real rage. But I hadn’t had any visions, and ultimately, I’d been relieved to be away from a place where I’d felt trapped, even if it had all been only my imagination.
It was almost midnight by the time I made it to the Petition, but I was wide awake, and I needed the internet. Fortunately, Orin left the library’s server on all the time. If someone needed a connection after hours, they could park next to the building or sit on the front steps.
A mudslide had occurred, and it seemed to have changed everything. Two girls, a woman’s dead body, and a man whom everyone had been unaware of were now exposed. As an aside, the man had all my books on his shelves and had behaved as if he might know who I was. To be fair, he wasn’t the only one. I’d seen many shelves with my books, but it had been the combination of all the other ingredients that made me run away.
A knock sounded on the shed’s door. All the work I’d done to calm down fell into an invisible well. My heart rate sped up yet again as I grabbed the glass coffee carafe. This couldn’t be good.
“Hey, Beth, it’s me,” Orin said from the other side.
Air whooshed out of my lungs and my hands started to shake with the release of adrenaline. I cleared my throat. “One sec, Orin.”
I was now tired and wired, anxious and nauseous, but I had to pull it together. I didn’t want Orin to see me in this state.
I put my hand on the doorknob, took a few more deep breaths, and then unlocked and opened.
“Hey,” I said as I pulled the door wide. “I’m sorry I didn’t get back to you.”
Orin stood there with a folder tucked under his arm and his hands in his pockets.
“Are you okay?” he asked, his breath making a foggy cloud.
I nodded.
“I’ve been waiting for you. I was working when I saw your truck head down that road. You were gone awhile. I was about to call Gril.”
“I am fine, but I had an adventure, and though I’m very sorry you waited for me to return, I can’t tell you how happy I am that you were watching out for me. Thank you, Orin.”
“You’re welcome.” His eyebrows came together. “Can I come in? Is it too late to share some information? And, do you want to tell me what you were doing?”
“Come in.” I stepped back. “It’s not too late.”
He hesitated, but then joined me inside.
The typical Orin scent filled the shed, but this time it mixed with the cold. It wasn’t unpleasant. In fact, I took it in. Familiar and now comforting.
We took the seats we always took as Orin placed the folder on my desk in between us. I slid my typewriter over an inch or two and gave him my full attention.
Again, he hesitated. He probably really wanted to know what I’d been up to, but he didn’t immediately ask again. “All right, I’ve been at the library all day. I tried to call Gril but he’s probably busy. You’re the first one seeing this.”
I nodded encouragingly.
“Okay, let’s start with the Hortons. Do you remember us talking about them? The people whose house burned down in the fire?”
“Yes, and only one girl’s body was found.”
“And as far as we know, no one knows what happened to the other girl.”
“Do you think it’s one of the girls who were here?”
“I don’t know. Maybe.”
“Seems plausible.”
“It does. Around the time of the fire, about two months before it, actually, Randy and his wife Wanda Phillips came to Benedict. I don’t remember Wanda. I came to town around the same time, so maybe our paths just didn’t cross. Randy had their house built before they moved here. I think he wanted to surprise his wife. The house that Randy had built is almost identical to Paul and Audrey Horton’s house, the one that burned down; they were neighbors. Remember that detail. Wanda Phillips must have disappeared around the same time the Hortons left, after the tragic fire.”
“Wait. Was her disappearance news back then?”
“Nope,” Orin said. “I never once heard mention of it. You have to understand that once winter hits, people hunker down. By the time the next spring thaw came, she was probably forgotten about. We take care of our own out here; sometimes that means others do get forgotten. Here, I’ll show you what I found. Here’s record of the purchase of Randy and Wanda Phillips’s land—they bought it from the Hortons. There was no real estate agent involved. Not uncommon out here.”
“Okay.”
“It took me a while to even remember conversations about Wanda, but I might remember hearing at some point that Randy’s wife went back home to New York City. The news didn’t make an impression on me. There was no goodbye party. Nothing seemed strange. It just was what it was. Again, never a big topic of conversation.” Orin paused and looked at me.
“I’m following.”
“Good. Okay, here’s the really interesting part.”
“Let me guess. You looked and couldn’t find her in New York?”
Orin smiled. “Good work. That’s correct. But not only that, I couldn’t find her anywhere, Beth. I have access to databases that track Social Security numbers as well as credit reports. Wanda Phillips’s credit stopped being pinged, used, wasn’t checked, not long after the fire. No sign of her using her Social Security card for anything. I can’t find her anywhere.”
I bit my bottom lip. “Is there a chance she could have just stopped needing credit? Maybe they had a home that was paid for and she just moved back into it. It’s a stretch, I know.”
Orin nodded once. “You’re kind of onto something, though. I found their old address in New York City, and they did not sell it; they are still listed as its owners.”
“So she moved back there?”
With a satisfied expression, Orin shook his head. “No one has lived there for six years.”
“How do you know?”
“I started with utility companies. Then, I confirmed with their building’s co-op board. Their apartment is and has been empty. Once a week, someone comes in to check things, look around.”
“How did you do that?”
He sent me an incredulous look. “I have my ways.”
“Okay, so Randy must know she didn’t go back there?”
“I don’t know what Randy knows. But she didn’t go anywhere, Beth, not as far as I can tell.”
“And now her body has been found in Lane’s shed?”
“I don’t know. Was it her?”
I suddenly realized I knew things Orin didn’t. He might not know about the wrist tattoo. Did he even know Randy had been taken to Juneau? Now I told him everything, including what I’d been up to that evening. He was curious and then visibly angry at my bold move in exploring Lane’s now collapsed shed.
“Aw, Beth, please don’t do stuff like that. It’s just plain stupid,” he said.
I blinked. “I know. I’m sorry. But if the shed hadn’t collapsed, I’d have been in and out and back quickly.”
“It was snowing and you didn’t tell anyone where you were going.”
“True.”
“Never again, okay?”
“Okay.”
“Good. Now, Gril has the tattoo as the only distinguishing feature so far?”
“Yes, and the Juneau ME, an interesting woman named Christine, is the one who did the research.”
“Ah, tattoo research. She’s good. I’d like to meet her.”
“There’s such a thing as tattoo research?”
“If you’re good. If I had a picture, I might be able to track down the same things she has, but I bet she was able to find the artist. Maybe someone nearby in Juneau, and then it’s a matter of hoping for accurate and archived sales records. Who knows, but there are ways. I’ll ask Gril for a picture. Does she think the body is Wanda’s?”
“I don’t know exactly. She took Randy to Juneau for identification purposes, and maybe booking, I guess. I doubt more than one woman around here would fit the description so precisely.”
“Can’t think that way. If the tattoo artist was a local, more than one woman with brown hair could have that tattoo.”
“It’s close to a perfect murder, you know? I mean, they move here and a month later Wanda ‘goes back home.’ No one in either place would spend too much time wondering. Maybe Randy is sending fake emails to friends. It’s well thought out,” I said.
Orin tapped his lips with his fingers. “Sort of. If the body had disappeared forever, then it would’ve been perfect. If it’s Wanda, she’s been on ice somewhere and just became exposed. Why now?”
“What if a body is thrown into the ocean. Is that a guarantee that it will disappear?”
“It would take a boat and some weights, but currents are strong. A body can resurface and show up on a shoreline somewhere.”
“Just like what happened here a few months ago.”
“Exactly. A body might not stay hidden that way. Also, water can do different things to bodies. I don’t think the body found on shore had been in the water for long, and from the description of the body in the shed, it wasn’t waterlogged.”
“Randy told me his wife hadn’t signed the divorce papers yet,” I said. “Maybe he had to get her body out in the open so he could finally … I don’t know, cut his ties to her? Have her declared dead maybe. Life insurance?”
“I guess that’s possible.”
“But where has she been on ice?”
“A freezer?”
“Well, maybe, but I didn’t see one big enough on Randy’s property.”
“We have ice caves. Climate change is warming our temperatures, and the permafrost is melting, but we still have ice caves, places where it’s always below freezing.”
“Where?”
“Around. I’m not sure exactly, but I can work on that. Gril will want that, too.”
We each sat back in our chairs and fell into thought. My mind was swirling but I no longer needed the internet; Orin had done all the research, and more.
Orin sat forward. “What if he just didn’t know? If it’s Wanda, Randy might not have killed her. Someone else could have.”
I switched gears in my mind. “Who?”
“Another good question.”
“We need a positive ID on the body at this point. There’s more in that file. What else is there?”
Orin flipped over a piece of paper. “I think I found the Hortons; maybe. They moved back to the Lower Forty-Eight after their tragedy. I have an address.”
“They had a rough go.”
“That’s putting it lightly.” He looked at the paper. “Beth, remember the earlier detail of the proximity of their house to Randy’s here in Benedict?”
“Sure.”
“Their New York City address is right around the corner from Randy and Wanda’s apartment.”
“What in the world does that mean?” I said.
“Maybe nothing.”
“You believe that?”
“No, but I can’t prove anything else.”
“I guess just tell Gril.”
“I’m going to get this information to him first thing in the morning.” Orin gathered the papers and tucked them into the folder.
I looked at the clock hanging on the wall. It was close to one a.m., too late to call Gril unless it was an emergency.
Orin followed my gaze. “That’s good for tonight. I’m glad you made it back safe and sound.”
“Me too. Thanks.”
Orin stood and tucked the folder under his arm. He headed to the door but stopped and faced me again. “Are you going to stay here or go home?”
“I don’t know.”
“Go home, Beth. It’s been some long days, and I think you could use some rest. I’ll come back over in the morning. We can talk again. I’ll tell you everything Gril shares with me. I promise.”
I nodded. “All right. I’ll go in a few.”
“Good.”
It was too cold to linger in the open doorway. I watched as Orin hurried around the corner of the shed, sending me a smile and a peace sign as he went.
I closed the door and sniffed. His scent had lingered inside. Maybe that’s what had calmed me down. I smiled to myself, grateful for the calm, but it was definitely time to go home and get some rest.