Tainted Waters

Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter Twenty-Three

Everything was different now. The beautiful lady who'd taught her so much was gone. The cabin seemed so empty without her. Sam sighed as the memories poured in. All of them good. Cathy and she had spent so many nights with Mrs. MacNeil. She'd not only taught them how to swim but how to use a bow and arrow. How to hunt. Sam had really sucked at being quiet so they'd never shot a deer when she'd been with them. Mostly because she couldn't imagine killing something so majestic. Mrs. MacNeil had explained to them you only ever kill an animal when you need food and kill only enough to eat—'You waste nothing.' The set of horns over the fireplace made Sam shudder. She was okay with eating meat, but there was no way she wanted to see something die so she could have something to fill her stomach.

As she looked around, everything was neatly in its place like her mentor had just stepped outside for a minute. It made her wonder why she'd felt the need to stop in. The woman would not be coming back, her family would take care of everything. Cathy would anyway.

The pep talk she gave herself didn't matter; she couldn't shake the feeling that something was off. Mrs. MacNeil dying of a heart attack just didn't seem right. She could accept that a ninety-year-old woman might die of that but one that still walked a mile or so a day? It made little sense to her. Especially after what she'd heard between Randy and George.

Had Mrs. MacNeil been murdered?

The thought made her shudder. Unsure of what she'd find, she felt compelled to look. There were a few cookbooks, gardening books, a few real-life stories, some knickknacks and some family pictures sitting on the bookshelf. There were a few letters on her table. Her basket of knitting beside her rocking chair. In the kitchen, there were a few dishes in the cupboards. Everything was as it should be. No hidden surprises. Nothing out of the ordinary. Continuing to snoop, she grabbed the door under the sink and pulled. It wouldn't open. Grabbing the handle firmly, she yanked hard. If she hadn't been holding on so tight, she would have gone flying into the counter behind her. It was odd that it had been so difficult to open. Years before, Mrs. MacNeil and Mr. Tennison had teamed up and had someone come in and dig a well. They also got some plumbing done so they could put in running water for the two cabins but neither had done the work for sewage. The sink drained into a pail that had to be emptied outside. She couldn't imagine Cathy's grandma fighting with a sticky door every day.

There was nothing in there but the half-full pail, reminding her that things had been left unfinished. If she didn't empty it, the place would smell terrible by the time the family arrived to clean it out. She reached in, only to realize that she'd have to remove the hose that drained into it before it would come out. She crouched down and leaned in so she could see what she was doing. She grabbed the hose firmly and pulled. Nothing happened. There had to be some catch to it. She flipped onto her back so she could see how it was put together. Something stuffed against the top front of the cabinet immediately caught her attention. She worked her hand up in the small space and pulled. The item slid into her hand with ease. She carefully brought it out of its hiding place. It was a journal. An old one. Curious, she slid out from underneath the sink, and stared at the book-size notebook she was holding.

The pages were thick and yellowed on the edges. She delicately took each page and slowly turned them. The writing was faded, some in pencil and some in blue ink, and difficult to read. Finally, she reached a page where she could make out some of it. Her brows drew together as she tried to decipher what it meant.

The distinct sound of someone walking across the deck snapped her out of her reverie. She quickly stuffed the book back where she'd found it.

~~~~

Keegan pushed open the door without knocking. "What the hell do you think you're doing?"

He had to stop himself from laughing when she spun around and lost her balance in her crouched position, falling backward.

"What's wrong with you? Are you trying to kill me or what?" She sat up.

"What are you doing here?"

"I could ask you the same question."

"Fine, why don't I call the cops and let them sort it out."

"Look, I used to come here all the time with Cathy, Mrs. MacNeil's granddaughter." She reached into her pocket and showed him what she had. "I have my own key to the place. I was asked to keep an eye on her. On this place."

She pushed herself to her feet. "Satisfied?"

He held her gaze. "So, what are you doing going through her stuff?"

"Uhhh …" She looked away. "Look, I'm doing a favor for Cathy, she asked me to come and check on things. She's on holidays, in case that's your next question."

He leaned against the doorjamb, making sure that she couldn't make a quick dash out, without answering him. "Okay. I'll buy that, but care to tell me why you're looking so intently through her cupboards?"

"You've been following me."

"Just like you've been following me."

They stood there, glaring at each other. Finally, he looked away, glancing around as though expecting to find clues as to what she'd been doing. Her story just didn't sound quite right. She also had been giving him the evil eye liked he'd done something wrong. It wasn't him who had broken into an old woman's place. He drew in a deep breath. A distinct scent caught his attention and made him smile. He sniffed the air a few more times.

"Hello? Are you still with me?"

"Cinnamon. It smells good. She used to make the best cinnamon buns." He absently patted his stomach.

She laughed. "She was an amazing baker and cook. When we were young, I had to go on a diet through the week so when Cathy and I came out on the weekends, we could pig out."

He returned her smile. His shoulders relaxing. "I wish I'd known her longer. She was not like anybody I'd ever met. I don't think there was anything she couldn't do. Cook, hunt, canoe, hike, chop wood, fix plumbing."

He felt a slight flush creep up his face. "Yeah. She was a big part of my life. She taught me how to cook, to sew. Okay, let me change that, she tried to teach me how to cook and to sew, but I was much better at learning how to sneak up on a deer, how to be curious and keep looking until I found answers that made sense to me."

"What did you find?"

The sound of a car approaching had them both looking at each other wide-eyed. Keegan gestured for her to close everything and get moving. She followed him out the door which he closed silently, before snapping the lock in place. He motioned for her to jump over the far side of the deck; he followed closely behind just as someone approached from the other end. The trees seemed a long way away, but Keegan was able to shove Sam into them and climb in behind her. Dense brush hid them from view but also kept them from getting a good look at who was entering or leaving. Crouched low, trying to be quiet but wanting to know who had arrived, Keegan poked his head up as high as he could, without being too obvious.

There were sounds of someone jiggling the lock and then entering the house. But he still didn't have a clear view of who it was. The guy took forever. Time seemed to tick by at the speed of a car salesman getting to the bottom dollar price of a car for sale. This guy was being thorough. Whatever he was doing.

Cramps, itching, and curiosity had to have been almost killing Sam, or at least that's what Keegan guessed as she was fidgeting like she had ants in her pants. Every two minutes, she'd shift. No matter how many times he gave her a dirty look, she kept doing it. She leaned forward but was startled by how close he was and jerked backward. It sent her sprawling in the brush. She was trying to be quiet but was determined to be free from the foliage. The guy emerged from the house. Keegan waved at Sam to freeze but she'd already stopped moving. Other than getting a brief glance of the guy's black baseball cap, pulled low, and a shirt collar, pulled high, he really couldn't get a good look at him.

It was the distinct sound of a shutter that made Keegan's eyes widen and the man who'd been leaving pause and turn his head to the side, listening intently. After a few moments, he finally moved off. Sam held her breath, not moving a muscle until the vehicle had left and there was nothing but a prolonged silence.

"What the hell?"

"What?"

"Can't you stay still? Ever?"

Sam made a face and held up her cell phone. "I was just trying to see if I could get a look into the cabin. Anyway, I have a picture of him."

He glared at her. "Who was it?" He crawled out of their hiding place before getting to his feet.

She poked her head out of the trees. "How am I supposed to know? I didn't see his face."

"Could it have been one of her sons?"

"Nope, too young. Maybe a grandson. But I don't recall any that looked like that."

"I thought you just said you didn't get a look at him?"

"I said I didn't see his face. I saw his body just fine. And his body is in very good shape." She nodded her head. "Verrrrryyy good shape. Which last time I looked, none of Cathy's cousins were."

Pissed off but not sure why, Keegan made his way back to the cabin. On the way, he realized that he should check to make sure the guy had left and that there wasn't more than one of him. At the end of the deck, he peeked around the edge. He couldn't see or hear anything. He jogged to the road, there was no one in sight. He was making his way back to the cabin when he heard Sam swear.

"What the hell!"

He sprinted the rest of the way. She'd gone back inside. He raced up the stairs, not sure what to expect. Entering the house, he stopped suddenly, wobbling like a bobblehead. He just narrowly missed tackling her as she'd stopped just inside the door.

"What the hell."

"That's what I said."

The place was as neat as a pin. He peered over her shoulder.

"Has anything been taken?"

"Not that I can tell. It doesn't even look like someone has been here. Maybe it was one of the kids. They're going to have to clean it out eventually." Sam pulled the door closed. "We should get out of here. This feels wrong."

"Okay. Let's go to my place. It's close. We can keep an eye out from there. See if anyone comes back." He wasn't ready to let her out of his sight. Not only was someone around who hadn't been before, but she knew more than she was telling him. What had she been looking for? When she hesitated, he offered what he hoped was an enticement. "I have beer."