But we weren’t alone. Images of Ray and his brother kept intruding at odd moments. I grew up without siblings. When my son Corey was born I was young, single, and on my own. When I went to work on the platforms, I had no options but to place him in a private school. And when my father died and I moved up here, Corey asked if he could stay in school for the time being, with his friends.
Being away from Corey is an agony for me. But at least when we part I know I’ll see him again soon. I could only imagine what Jimmy’s death meant to Ray, and yet his pain seemed so real to me that it might have been my own.
Sympathy? Or were we connecting on a deeper, more intense level? I conceded that I found him attractive, and I sensed the same feelings in him. But at this point in my life...
A knock on the shop door snapped me out of it. I considered not answering, but whoever was knocking could read the Closed sign. Ray? I opened it cautiously.
“Hi,” Megan Lundy panted, “got a minute?” Her face was flushed and dewy from running and she was dressed for it, in a faded mauve sweat suit and high-mileage Nikes.
“Come on in,” I said. “Can I get you a drink? Water? Gatorade? Whatever?”
“No, thanks,” she said, glancing around the shop curiously. “Actually, I wanted to talk to you about your friend Calderon. Are we alone?”
“Just us and the ghosts of summer,” I said. “What about Ray?”
“He’s been making me crazy. That little speech he made last night about Walter McClain, and what he might look like now? Mind you, I don’t think he’s right, but... I just couldn’t get the idea out of my head. So I did a few sketches, variations of the picture he showed me.” She gave me a sketch pad, but held my hand closed on it.
“Promise me you’ll be careful with this,” she said. “I want to help, but wouldn’t want Audrey McClain to think I was being disloyal.”
“Keeping Calderon discreet is becoming a second career for me lately,” I said, opening the book. The first two drawings showed Walter with various beards. The third made me pause.
“That one’s Walter plus a couple of metric tons,” she explained, watching my face.
“He seems familiar,” I said.
“Yes, I noticed it too,” she said. “He looks a bit like Wally’s Uncle Gordon. Probably just a family resemblance. Blubber tends to blur lines of distinction.”
“Too true,” I said, flipping through the others. They showed Walter bald, partially bald, and... with a bushy mane of hair and a seamed face. “This one could almost be Ross.”
“It could also be David Bowie on a bad hair day,” Megan said wryly. “That’s the problem. Once you start wondering about a thing like this, you start to see Walter’s ghost everywhere. I imagine that’s how conspiracy cults get started.”
“What’s this one?” I asked. It was a cartoon sketch of a crone, at least eighty.
“A cautionary reminder.”
“Of what? It’s an old woman.”
“Look again. For a young woman.”
“Ah,” I said, nodding, “right. I see her.” The two faces shared the same lines, but the women depicted were decades apart, facing in different directions.
“It’s a child’s game, but it might be a good thing for Ray to keep in mind. These are just sketches. They don’t prove anything, and by the way, I’m doing them as much for you as for your friend.”
“For me?”
“I enjoyed talking to you yesterday. You struck me as an interesting character. I love this town and the lake country, but sometimes, as a professional woman on my own, I feel like what’s-her-name in Clan of the Cave Bear. Ever get that feeling?”
“Sometimes,” I admitted. “Not often.”
“My life’s a shambles right now,” Megan said briskly. “I’m having a solo show in New York at the end of the month and I still have several paintings to finish. But afterwards? We should get together for an evening, just to get acquainted.”
“I’d like that,” I said. “I really like your work.”
“I’d say the same,” she said, glancing curiously around the shop, “if I had the vaguest idea of what it is you do. But I look forward to hearing about it. When the first snow flies?” She offered me her hand. “Deal?”
“Deal,” I agreed. “When the first snow flies.”
“Interesting,” Ray said, flipping through the sketches that night. Dinner at the Nest was becoming a habit, or perhaps I just hoped it would. He looked tired. He’d flown most of the day with the Coast Guard chopper. No luck. He paused a moment at the sketch that resembled Ross. Then flipped past it. “Last night she said she wouldn’t help. Why did she change her mind?”
“I don’t know. She said she couldn’t get the idea out of her head.”
“I know the feeling,” he said. “So. Other than what’s-his-name, Ross? Does anyone else look familiar?”
“I’m not sure. There are twelve thousand people in this town, thirty thousand in the county. That may be small potatoes compared to Detroit or Norfolk, but it’s still a lot of people.”
“My mother said Jimmy was taller than his father, but not as heavily built. That eliminates everybody who isn’t roughly six foot, say a hundred and seventy pounds minimum. Does that narrow it down any?”
The edge in Ray’s voice made me hesitant to mention the overweight Walter’s resemblance to Gordon McClain. And fortunately, Charlie Bauer interrupted us. He spotted us as soon as he stepped into the room, and came directly over. He may have looked normal to Ray, his brown county uniform slighty disheveled, his freckled face open as an apple pie. But something was up. I sensed it in the way he moved.
“Mitch, mind if I join you?” He took the chair beside me without waiting for an answer. “I heard the air search came up empty again today, Mr. Calderon. I’m sorry.”
“Me too,” Ray said. “The pilot was a good man, though. A stone pro. He did his best.”
“And so did we,” Charlie said. “My men extended their range today. We either checked with the owners or searched the beach ourselves for a full ten miles along the south shore. We found no sign of your brother, and I’m afraid that’s all we can do for the present. If anything develops, I’ll contact you, of course. Will you be heading back to Norfolk?”
“Not right away. I’ll be staying on awhile.”
“I see. To look for your brother?”
“For that. And maybe more. Let me ask you straight out, Charlie. The song and dance Mrs. McClain gave us about her husband being dead, legally and otherwise? Did you buy it?”
“I think she believes it,” Charlie said carefully. “Maybe she needs to. Which doesn’t necessarily make it true. On the other hand, even if she’s wrong and he is alive, which I seriously doubt, he’s not around here.”
“I understand there are thirty thousand people in this county. Do you know them all personally?”
“Nope, but I knew Walt. Played high school football with him, in fact. He was a few years older, but I knew him.”
“How long ago was that?”
“More years than I’d care to recall,” Charlie said, unoffended. “But I think I’d still know him if I met him.”
“Would you? How about these people?” he said, passing Charlie the sketch pad. “Do you know any of them?”
Charlie riffled through the pages, quickly at first, then again more slowly. He frowned at the cartoon of the old/young woman, then smiled. “Nice work. I’m impressed. Where’d you get this?”
“It doesn’t matter. Do any of them look familiar?”