Page 21 of Haunted Heart
“Good. Grape-vine has it that you may be taking the shop back. She said to tell you she’ll have more yarns and product if you do.”
She glances at me then Jaxon. “We’re working on a plan. I hope to know in a couple weeks.”
“The towns people are sure hoping you do.”
“Thanks for the vote of confidence. Come on in, coffee’s done and I’ve got cookies.”
Inside, I pull up the photos I took up on my computer so we can all see. “Whoever they were they had tree coverage and perfect sight line to the front door.”
“Grace had commitments in town today. We planned on checking out Guy’s old trail tomorrow.”
“You mentioned something about a box?” Clay asks.
Crossing to the bookshelf, I take it down from where I’d put it when we came home from dinner. “We were collecting supplies in the studio when I noticed this ornate keepsake box. It was Guy’s from his childhood. Grace doesn’t know when or why he moved it out to the studio. It was always hidden in the house.
“I know this is going to sound farfetched. But Clay, you said before Guy died he wanted to talk to you about something important. He also told Grace that he thought there were trespasser tracks on their property. He’d been concerned. Then he hides this box in the studio right after he puts in a new lock. The key to this box wasn’t where he always kept it either. Too many things just don’t feel right. Especially since he passed away.”
Pulling Guy’s key set from my pocket, I glance at Grace. “Does this fob go to your car?”
She shakes her head. “No. My car was even older than Guy’s truck. But that isn’t to his truck either. He said it was from work. I guess I should have given it back. I never thought about it.”
I pop open the back of the fob. “It’s not a real fob. It’s a decoy. Is this the key to the keepsake box?”
“Yes. I— Caleb, what’s going on?”
“I don’t know, but I figured we needed witnesses when we opened the box.”
Clay holds out his hand. “Give me the key and two of you record this on your phones.”
Before opening the box, Clay records a brief statement of date, time, location, and what’s going on. The key from the fake fob easily opens the box. There’s a letter addressed to Grace on the top, photos of shoe prints, people in the distance making their way up the mountain that Grace identifies as the far back portion of their property. Then five papers folded into the shape of paper airplanes. There are sticky notes attached to each.
The first sticky note is dated approximately three months before Guy’s death. When we unfold the oldest paper plane the word ‘HELP’is printed inside the flap. The sticky on the second one says date, time and GPS location. Again, the only thing written inside the airplane isHELP. The third is the same.
An envelope is attached to the fourth with a note inside.
Grace, I don’t know what’s going on. But I’m suspicious. Someone has been traveling our back property on a regular basis. Enough to create a trail. I started finding these paper airplanes stuck in the bushes along the path I walk when heading up the mountain. I threw the first two away thinking itwas just kids being kids and horsing around on a camping trip.
I kept the next two then I found this one. The note on this plane seems more desperate. Over the next week I got photos of some people hiking up the mountain in the distance. They had crossed over onto our property to get an easier path up before going around the mountain to the backside. I’ll try to get closer the next time.”
Help us please, is written on the fourth airplane.
The last envelope is dated two weeks before Guy died.
“Grace, I’m trying to meet with Clay. I’m probably overreacting, but I’ve felt like someone is following me for the last week or so. It was right after I found note five. I’m taking precautions and hiding this box in the studio since I just replaced the lock on that building, and I know you’ll go in there to work and will find it if...if something happens to me. I’m sure everything is fine. But if something does, when you find this box take it to Clay immediately.”
The fifth note:Save us, Mime Rose.
“Fuck,” Clay whispers.
We all turn to him.
He runs a hand over his face, his jaw clenched, before meeting my gaze. “I told you I’ve been reaching out to a larger radius of neighboring towns around the mountain about random fires and arson. There’s been a couple, but no obvious connection to anything other than faulty wiring and a couple neglected campfires. One death of a homeless guy.
“One of the chiefs from farther upstate asked if any of us have had an increase in runaways. He’s had two in the last three years, more than he’s had in his whole career. Three other towns within a hundred-mile radius said yes. One had two, the others only one.
“They each shared names, ages, date missing, and photos on our email thread. Four female and two males from these few towns. One of the names was Mime Rose, twelve years old. She and her mom were homeless and living in the mother’s car. Mom would park the car behind the bar where she sometimes worked. Mom came out one night after a shift and Mimi Rose was gone. That was three years ago. Guy’s been gone two.”
Spade says it first. “Not runaways. Abductions.”
