Sara Mason Mysteries Collection

Chapter 14

Sara spent sleepless nights with her cell phone attached to its charger, left on, and in plain view on the nightstand. Life in the Delta had changed drastically from what she remembered, and it definitely put a cloud over what she had hoped to accomplish upon returning.

The next day, while the contractor"s crew worked, she stood at the upstairs landing looking out the window toward the levee. Though the groundhog had seen its shadow in February, the trees in her front yard showed signs of preparing to usher in spring. Spring, with its offer of renewal, had taken hold of her too. Everything she had recently accomplished kept her thoughts humming. A sensation of freedom came over her like she had never known.

As a teenager, freedom and getting out of the house usually meant sitting in the car to babysit her very active younger sister, while her parents sat in a bar for three or four hours. Only a few minutes, they always said. We"ll be right back. The idle promises haunted her.

Only a few minutesWe"ll be right back.That was when she realized how much Starla loved to sing. Starla would stand on her knees in the front seat looking back at her in the rear seat, trying to finish some homework. Starla would pretend to be a star on stage. She would sing and try to dance. Dancing on the ragged upholstered seat was nearly impossible, and she would fall with a grunt. Sara always encouraged Starla to get up and keep trying. To see her sister"s eyes sparkle when someone had faith in her made Sara want to give and give to that little girl with all her heart.

Neither was it freedom living without her family after the accident while she finished school. Her first taste of freedom came when she moved to Puerto Rico and didn"t speak the language and couldn"t get a job. Freedom was being all on her own and doing anything she wished. The bigger the challenge, the better as long as she had Starla"s photos for company.

Now, freedom in the Delta meant completely overcoming her fear of driving the levee roads. Also, despite the sleazy watering hole tavern her parents favored having been torn down, she needed to know what it was like to pass a Delta bar or tavern without feeling like screaming.

Freedom was having the time to notice the flocks and myriad species of migrating birds and people on horseback exercising the animals. She wanted to explore the several flooded islands that had been returned to wetlands similar to when the Miwok Indians hunted the area. She longed to get into a boat and slice through the rivers and explore and wondered if she was too old to learn to water ski, something she had never—

“Sara,” the contractor said, interrupting her reverie. “I need to explain about this wall down here.”

A set of blueprints from the Talbot era was included with the escrow documents. Almost daily, contractors and an architect scurried in and about the building in preparation for the restoration.

“From here to there,” the contractor said, describing the wall to come down.

After assuring herself it was a necessary change to make, Sara gave the go ahead.

Sara confined her working hours on the computer to the evenings. The contractor had keys and could enter with his men when she wasn"t home during the daytime. The only personal valuable items were in the one room she occupied. Other items of value throughout the house were the original wall sconces, the claw foot bathtub, and all the beveled glass windows and fine woodwork throughout. The final reconstruction plans had yet to be approved by the County. That could take weeks.

Esmerelda called several times since the last body was found at Stone Lake to speculate why the investigators had not released the identity. Then, finally, she said, “I"ve got to stop kidding myself. Orson may never be found. They stopped looking up there in the Placer hills long ago when the search parties turned up nothing.”

That may have been the first time Esmerelda openly faced the truth about her husband. Sara wondered why Esmerelda"s former friends hadn"t rallied to her support. Esmerelda seemed to have no one with whom to share her hopes and fears. She talked little about people from her days of social functions and parties. That meant those people had, most likely, dropped out of her life, perhaps when she began talking about the ghost.

Sara"s cell phone rang. “What"s up, Daph?”

“Hey, I wanted to find this information on the Net before I told you about Esmerelda"s daughter.”

“A daughter? She has a—”

“Had a daughter. I didn"t want to gossip. Wanted you to read about it.”

Had“Hey, we never kept secrets,” Sara said, smiling into the phone. Then she realized what Daphine had said. “What do you mean, "had"?”

“It explains a little about Esmerelda too. She used to be a nurse.”

“So that"s why she owns a hospice.”

“Yep. Her daughter was a nurse too. Listed as MIA in Vietnam.”

Sara felt a great surge of sympathy for Esmerelda. “What made you look for information on the Net?” Sara quickly made her way downstairs to her computer as they talked.

“Heard the story ages ago. Didn"t want to tell you right away. Thought you might want to get to know Esmerelda first.” Sara could imagine Daphine shrugging her shoulders as she usually did when speaking seriously. “You should read about it for yourself on the Web site.”

Sara waited with pen in hand. “What"s the URL?”

“I emailed you the link. Some guy, another nurse, came back from the war and said he was with Betty—that"s Esmerelda"s daughter—when a group of them were captured. They were marched for weeks through the jungle and, one by one got sick and dropped. Betty didn"t make it.”

Sara remembered the many horror stories that war produced. “And now they can"t find the spot where they left her laying, right?”

“Till they do, Betty"s an MIA.”

After hanging up, Sara booted the computer, clicked on the link, and read. Esmerelda had not one dear person missing, but two. Her stamina and ability to carry on despite compounded tragedy was something Sara understood completely. A missing daughter explained Esmerelda treating both her and Daphine like her own. Esmerelda was old enough, and they young enough, and all three bonded the day they got together.

Then Sara viewed a string of photos of Betty Talbot, some with several people, and a couple of close-ups by herself. Sara"s hand began to shake over the keyboard. “That wasn"t Esmerelda with light-colored hair,” she said out loud. One of the close-ups was the same photo that sat on Esmerelda"s sideboard.