The grill fired up with a sputter as Alanna twisted the knob.
The chicken breast looked well marinated, and she longed for a quick bite before tackling the mysteries surrounding her. Jonathan had left a couple of messages for Brendan. Alanna doubted he’d return the calls. He seemed as self-centered as ever.
Could the mess with the foundation books be the crux of the broken relationship between Mr. Hoffmeister and Mr. Tomkin? It had to be more than house plans. Surely that wouldn’t destroy a decades-long friendship.
If the problem generated on Hoffmeister’s watch but while Tomkins son was bookkeeper, it would certainly make finding a resolution tricky. Could that be the real reason Mr. Tomkin had asked her to look into the problem? He knew the source but didn’t know how to confront his son? Without talking to Brendan, she had no idea what would motivate him to steal from the foundation.
Maybe Detective Bull had looked through Hoffmeister’s books by now. Alanna placed the chicken on the grill then found his card and dialed the number.
“Detective Bull.”
“Hi, this is Alanna Stone.”
“How can I help you?” His tone was ultra-formal.
“Have you looked through Mr. Hoffmeister’s books yet?”
“Why?”
“I wondered if you could confirm that they were copies of the Mackinac Island Foundation’s financial records.”
“Why?”
“Because someone has embezzled from the foundation, and I think Mr. Hoffmeister was looking into it. It happened when he was president, and I think he felt a need to figure out who did it and why.”
“That’s a lot of theorizing. Any facts?”
“The embezzlement is evident in the foundation books. I don’t know why someone’s been doing it. But I think Mr. Tomkins son, Brendan, at least knew about it since he was the bookkeeper at the time.”
“Isn’t his father president of the foundation now?”
“Yes. And I think it’s interesting that Mr. Tomkin hired a new bookkeeper when he took over.”
“Thanks for the information.”
“Are you going to do anything with it?”
“I’ll follow up on it.” After the usual good nights, he hung up. Maybe it was a wasted call, but at least he could work on it now if he chose. Bet he’d have a little more luck getting Brendan to cooperate.
The door slammed open at Jonathan’s cabin. As it bounced off the hinges, a little body propelled out and flew down the dock. Alanna watched, mouth agape.
“Dylan, get back here.” Jaclyn’s voice sounded panicked as Dylan’s little legs kept pumping. “Dylan!”
Alanna wiped her hands on a dish towel, keeping her gaze locked on the boy.
The little body flew off the edge of the dock, and Alanna tore after him as Jaclyn screamed and Jonathan hurried out his door. Alanna kicked off her shoes and jumped after Dylan. The boy thrashed and sputtered, tears and pond water streaming down his face.
“Mommy!” Hiccups choked off his words before he sank under.
Alanna grabbed him and held his head above water. “I’ve got you.”
Jaclyn reached for Dylan as Jonathan hefted him onto the dock. Alanna treaded water a moment before gathering her energy to pull onto the dock. She coughed and rolled to her side as she watched Jaclyn clutch Dylan to her.
“Don’t ever do that again, Dylan! You scared Mommy.”
“Jonathan doesn’t love me.”
A stricken look crossed Jonathan’s face at the boy’s whine. “Jaclyn. . .”
She turned from Jonathan and struggled to her feet with the dripping boy. “What did you expect? He’s two years old. You’re the only father he’s known.” Jaclyn swiped at tears then moved down the dock with her son wrapped tightly in her arms.
Smoke poured from Alanna’s grill. There went dinner. She pushed to her feet and pulled limp hair from her eyes. She started to slip past Jonathan, who stood frozen. Now wasn’t the time to ask him what resolution he’d reached with Jaclyn. Yet the anguish on his face made it hard to walk away and leave him in his pain. She continued to the house and pulled the chicken off the grill.
Jonathan followed her, sank into a chair on her patio, then launched back to his feet. “I need to make sure she gets Dylan home okay.”
He hurried away. Any appetite she’d had disappeared with her dry clothes. A shiver whispered through her as she sat on the steps. Fish circles blipped across the pond, forming little punctuations on the evening.
Utter stillness settled over her like a suffocating blanket as she remained on the patio. Her mind worked over the details. A twist in time had placed Mr. Tomkin next to Mr. Hoffmeister. The two didn’t get along, but Mr. Tomkin had a solid alibi. Still, there had to be more to the story. More that involved the embezzling Mr. Tomkin had figured out. She needed to visit him. Give him a chance to explain.
Alanna went inside, changed, and then called Patience. The woman agreed to come in and work the following afternoon. The books still sat on the dining room table. Alanna ran a hand over the cover. She’d let Detective Bull talk to Brendan. She’d focus on Brendan’s dad.
People didn’t go from Friday night buddies to enemies without cause. Could it have anything to do with Grady’s death? Add in Brendan and the skirmish over Mr. Tomkins house plans, and many seeds for conflict grew. She had to believe Mr. Tomkin wouldn’t have bought the plot next to Mr. Hoffmeister if the rift had already existed.
She almost picked up the phone to call Jonathan and see what he thought of her approach. She shook her head. She would update him after she talked to Mr. Tomkin. He had too much to do at work, especially if he wanted to plan something for Trevor. She needed to do her part and clear her brother—and herself.
Her thoughts turned back to the graduation party. Trevor and Grady had been the first in the water but weren’t the only ones stupid enough to dive into the frigid lake. She still remembered how Trevor had trembled, his skin bluish as he stumbled back onto the rocky beach. He’d mumbled something as he fell against her.
“Something happened, Alanna. Something bad.” He shivered as he collapsed to the ground. Before she could clarify, a paramedic pushed her aside and went to work on Trevor.
“Stupid kid. He could have died like the other one.”
Alanna had stared then glanced down the beach where a couple of paramedics pounded frantically on Grady’s chest. The compressions didn’t seem to work as they kept pumping. Then the life-flight helicopter landed.
Two or three more teen boys huddled in a group. Brendan Tomkin had been in the group along with Randy Raeder and Chuck Matthews. Despite witnessing the event, nobody ever talked about it.
That’s what bothered Alanna. To this day, a cloak of silence dominated Grady’s death. It was as if everyone had gathered together and decided to leave it alone. What was past was history. Yet they’d all decided Trevor must have done something. Was it because he’d required the paramedics? Last time she checked, that didn’t make one guilty. Yet she’d never brought the issue back up with Trevor. He’d seemed traumatized, and Mom had spent the summer keeping him close, relieved to have her baby, unlike Grady’s mother.
She picked up the phone. Waited for Trevor to pick up.
“You think I’ll come to some event.”
“Hello to you, too, Trevor.”
“Alanna, I can’t do that.” Her brother’s voice shook. “I swore I’d never go back.”
“Because of Grady.”
“Of course.”
“What if I find out what happened? Once and for all. Then you wouldn’t have to wonder what people were thinking.”
“I can’t do that, sis.”
“Sure you can.” Alanna tapped the counter. “I just need to hear what happened from your perspective.”
“I was stupid. I let the older guys talk me into a race. I’ve never felt so cold. I really should move to Florida or Arizona cause every winter when the cold slaps me in the face, I feel like I’m back in the water.”
“Who else raced?”
Trevor swallowed. “Grady, Chuck, and Brendan. May have
been another kid or two. But those were the ones I tried to keep up with. Chuck rammed into me when I turned around to come back. When I got oriented, that’s when I saw Grady. I tried to help him, Alanna, I really did.” His voice shuddered. “I always wonder if I’d said no to that stupid race, would Grady have been okay, or would he have still jumped in?”
The next afternoon, as soon as Patience arrived, Alanna headed to the foundation. Laura sat at the front desk filing a nail. “Is Mr. Tomkin in?”
“Nope. He hightailed it out of here for lunch and hasn’t been back.” Laura leaned forward on her desk. “If you ask me, the man isn’t himself.”
“Really? Any reason?”
“Not that I can tell.” The woman checked her fingers then tapped them on the desk. “Guess it doesn’t matter. But if you need him, I’d call his cell. He’s probably up at his land. He spends all his time there. Communing with the property or some such nonsense. If you ask me, he should build already. At this rate, he’ll die before he builds.”
“Thanks. I’ll give him a call.” As she left, her phone vibrated in her pocket. Pulling it out, she clicked it on. “Hello?”
“Hey, Alanna.” Jonathan sounded excited. “Are you at the studio?”
“Nope. Running around. Having Patience is a great help.”
“Patience. Yeah, always your strong suit.”
“Hey.” She must look like an idiot standing in the street wearing a huge smile at Jonathan’s teasing.
“Just calling it like I see it.” He paused, and his voice sobered. “How are you doing?”
“Okay. Headed out to talk to Tomkin if I can find him.”
“Want company?”
“You’ve already spent too much time helping me plan a brilliant event for the Morrises. I’ll be okay.”
“Okay, I’ll try Brendan again.” He paused a moment. “Meet me on the dock tonight. We can try to catch Grandpappy.”
She laughed. “Still think you can catch him?”
“If you’re with me.”
Warmth flooded her. “Thanks. See you tonight.”
Next she called Tomkin on his cell. “I wondered if I could come see you.”
“Any problems?”
“Just a couple questions.”
“Ask away.”
She frowned. It would be better if she could watch his response as he answered. “I promise I won’t take much of your time. Patience is at the studio, so I’m free to come to you.”
“All right. I’m up at my property.”
A minute later, she hopped on her bike and started biking up the hills toward the Grand Hotel and then behind it toward Tomkins plot of land.
When she arrived, Mr. Tomkin stood facing the lake, even though she could barely make him out through the trees as they swayed in the wind. Alanna turned up the collar of her jacket then shoved her hands deep in her pockets as she approached. She couldn’t help glancing around to see if anyone in a ski mask hid in the trees. It was ridiculous, but the events of her last trip still lingered.
“Mr. Tomkin?”
He didn’t turn, fixed on something only he could see.
Alanna eased toward him. “Are you okay, sir?”
“Fine and dandy. Why wouldn’t I be?”
“Your friend is dead.”
“That’s not the worst part.” He turned toward her, a haunted
expression twisting his features into a shadowed mask. His shoulders hunched forward, and he looked every one of his sixty-some years, bowed by events. “Don’t you see?” His voice shook. “I started studying the land. Figuring out where to get the best views of the lake.” He turned a bit as if seeing the view for the first time again. “And it hit me.”
Alanna studied him, a wariness churning through her. Something wasn’t right, but she couldn’t tell what yet.
“Don’t you see?” He pinned her with a stare. “Brendan lied.” His Adam’s apple bobbed. “He lied.”
“What do you mean?”
“He couldn’t have been where he said when Grady died. He knew things he couldn’t know if he’d been on the shore. He said he only went in to help Grady to shore. I believed him. And no one ever questioned.” He shook his head. “I didn’t. Maybe I should have, but I didn’t.”
Alanna tried to picture the scene. Brendan had been in the water. Why lie about that? Especially since plenty had to see him in wet clothes. “What did Brendan say?”
“He insisted Grady and Trevor raced toward the lighthouse but got knocked around by the waves from a passing boat.”
“There wasn’t a boat.” She was almost certain. She’d remember a detail like that. “But there were more boys in the water. At least five that I remember.”
“Could you see from where you were on the beach?”
She closed her eyes and pictured the beach panorama. The large cropping of rocks still clustered around in a loose interpretation of Stonehenge. But the lighthouse was around the bend of the island. That was one reason she’d thought the boys were crazy to attempt the race in the frigid water. Only a fool or a teenage boy intent on proving something would launch a dare like that. Trevor had fallen into the easily led category. Grady had been out to prove something. And Brendan? As she looked at the scene, she realized he’d stared at Grady with an intensity that smoldered when his gaze slid to Ginger Hoffmeister. The look between Grady and Brendan had been layered with meaning.
“I see you’re making the connections.” Mr. Tomkins shoulders slumped, and he stared across the expanse at Lake Huron lapping the shore. “I don’t know why I never considered that before I came up here, determined to build a house that would shame everyone else. Then I couldn’t imagine looking at that scene every day. And Hoffmeister wouldn’t let me back out of the contract.”
“You wanted out?” No one had mentioned that.
“I couldn’t stare at this scene day after day. Yet I’m still drawn here. Blasted contract.”
“You had to honor it.”
“Sure. But a lifetime of friendship should have made a difference.” He shrugged. “I was wrong about a lot of things.”
“Did you tell Mr. Hoffmeister why you wanted out?”
“No. . .but I think he figured it out. He got real quiet and uncomfortable around me.”
“I think that could have more to do with the foundation embezzling.”
“You figured that out, too?” He sighed. “I knew you would bulldog just like you used to with trig problems. I hate to think that Brendan would do something like that. But I couldn’t let him continue with the books until I could prove who did it.”
“Maybe someone else did it. I can’t figure out his motive. Yes, he took money, but why?”
“There’s a lot about my son I don’t understand. I tried to give him the best of everything. Maybe all I did was create a monster who believes he’s entitled to do whatever he wants.”
“What are you going to do?” She could tell the police chief, but it would sound stronger coming from Mr. Tomkin. He’d need to tell the man why he thought Brendan was involved in Grady’s death and the embezzling. While it didn’t help her with Mr. Hoffmeister’s murder, it would certainly help clear Trevor’s name and go a long way toward bringing him into his own on Mackinac.
“Guess I’ll find Chief Ryan. Fill him in. I don’t suppose the statute of limitations has expired?”
“Ten years for murder for a juvenile.”
“Then he’ll be okay.” The stiffness evaporated from his shoulders, and he stumbled.
“More than likely.’’ Alanna didn’t have the heart to point out that if the court treated him like an adult, then there was no statute of limitations. But if they treated him like the seventeen-year-old kid he was, then Grady’s death had occurred too long ago. If it was an accident, then Brendan should have admitted what happened back then. Still, the truth now was better than an ongoing feast of lies. “Maybe you can talk Brendan into telling Chief Ryan everything.”
“I don’t know. It’s been a long time to risk opening that back up to scrutiny.”
Alanna stepped toward Tomkin, intensity pounding through her. “Brendan owes Trevor the truth. He deserved it eleven long years ago, and if you don’t make your son do the right thing, so help me, I will make sure he doesn’t have a choice. Do not tempt me.”
“I don’t know.”
“You have until the studio show. If Brendan doesn’t tell the truth before that, I’ll make sure it’s announced there in a way that nobody will forget.” She studied him and then felt the wave of frustration begin to recede. “Good-bye, Mr. Tomkin.”
When she left, Mr. Tomkin still stood staring across the lake toward Mackinaw City. The burden of lies and fear held him in place. She prayed he could convince Brendan to come clean. The town needed the truth to be revealed. Eleven years of secrets and shadows had layered to the point she wondered how to fully clear them away.
She hurried to Jonathan’s office, eager to share her news, but took her time climbing the stairs, trying to quiet her breathing. The sound of voices in hushed conversation made her pause with her hand on the knob.