Below the Tree Line Page 9

  “How are you feeling after the accident? You were very helpful to the police.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” Nathan grew serious. “She died. I thought she was going to hit me.”

  “Nathan, would you tell me again exactly what happened? I want to be sure I understand.”

  “I was riding up the hill and I saw this car coming and all of a sudden she turned like she was coming straight at me but then she went in the other direction, into the trees. I heard the crash. I could see the car.”

  “This is what you told Chief Algren, about her veering to avoid hitting an animal.”

  “Yup.” He nodded in short sharp bursts and his hat slipped to the side.

  “Which way did she turn?”

  “She was on her side of the road and she crossed in front of me.” Nathan’s eyes widened and he pulled back, giving his chin a little jerk, perhaps recalling the feelings of that moment.

  “So the animal went which way?”

  Nathan looked blank. “I don’t know. I guess it went the other way.”

  “A raccoon?”

  He shook his head. “I don’t remember.”

  “But you’re sure you saw an animal cross in front of the car?”

  Nathan frowned, his shoulders sagging. “I think so. Why else would she swerve like that?” His eyes hardened. “It wasn’t me. I wasn’t in the middle of the road.”

  “Oh, no, Nathan. I didn’t think you were. I really didn’t. I thought maybe a single coyote was out and about during the day and I wanted to know if that was the case. I have sheep, you know.” Felicity was relieved to see him relax.

  He smiled for the first time. “No, ma’am. It wasn’t a coyote. I would have remembered that.”

  “I’m sure you would have.” She thanked him for being so helpful and left. She had a lot to think about on her way to East Lanark. If she’d been riding up the hill and saw a strange car moving toward and then away from her, she too would have assumed the car was swerving to avoid hitting something. But she’d already seen it coming erratically down the road toward her driveway before veering off and continuing on its way. Nathan had filled in the gaps, just as Felicity would have. But she was pretty sure now there was no animal in the road.

  The drive to East Lanark, where Sasha Glover lived, took less than an hour. Felicity turned onto the old Durston Road, crossed Heaven’s Lake Road, and picked up speed on Lanark Road. She had no trouble finding the address and parked on a quiet side street.

  From her research in a local online bulletin board, Felicity had learned that Sasha graduated from college with a degree in business. But she needed only to see the names of Sasha’s parents to confirm some of what she’d already realized. Sasha was the daughter of Harold Williams Glover and Helena Bodrun Callahan, and the great granddaughter of Ezekial Bodrun. She guessed he was mentioned as a courtesy for the old-timers who would remember him and his family.

  The house where Sasha had lived was located almost exactly in the middle of a row of Queen Annes well cared for by their owners or tenants. Recently painted white, with a small front lawn, the house apparently offered modest but respectable apartments. The row of black mailboxes hanging beside the front door listed names as well as numbers; Sasha’s name was on the mailbox for the second-floor unit. Since the young woman hadn’t lived with her family, as Felicity learned when researching the address, she would have to settle for speaking with Sasha’s neighbors for now.

  She pushed the doorbell, hoping one of the other tenants would answer. She was not disappointed.

  “Yes?” A woman held open the door and frowned at her.

  Felicity introduced herself and explained her connection to Sasha.

  The woman, probably in her late fifties, in black sweats and a purple jersey, swung the door open wide and shook her head with an apologetic smile. “I feel so bad about Sasha, and for her family.”

  Before the woman could say anything more, something crashed behind her and she hurried back inside, leaving Felicity standing in the doorway. She stepped into the hall and closed the outside door, then leaned into the apartment. “Can I help?”

  The woman—M. Halloran, according to the mailbox for the first floor apartment—looked back and shook her head as she collected a cereal bowl and spoon from the floor while a child tried to right her chair. Felicity hurried in to help anyway, and the girl climbed back on the chair.

  “My granddaughter. She’d scale Mount Everest if she thought there was cereal up there.” M. Halloran seemed exhausted by the effort and Felicity wondered if she was the sole caretaker of the active little girl. “How about a cup of tea? I haven’t talked to an adult in days.”

  Moments later the two women were settled on the sofa, where Maddie Halloran, as she introduced herself, could keep an eye on her granddaughter.

  “Sasha’s dad came around on Tuesday looking for her,” Maddie said. Every few words she started to leap up, hand outstretched and calling “no” before her granddaughter stopped what she was doing and Maddie could settle back. Felicity thought the woman must have adrenaline pumping through her veins twenty-four hours a day.

  “She was already missing then?”

  “She didn’t show up for work and her boss called Harold, her dad.” Maddie stopped once again to yell at the little girl. “Her parents are divorced. She and her dad got along well, and they got together a lot.”

  “I didn’t know.” Except for the family name, Bodrun, Felicity hadn’t found the parents’ names familiar. “Did she have any siblings? Brother or sister?”

  “She has an older brother but he doesn’t live around here.” Another lurch and the granddaughter rebelled. This time Maddie jumped up and grabbed the little girl. “Time for a nap. I’m exhausted.” She tucked the child into bed in another room and returned, falling onto the sofa. Felicity held up her mug, afraid the jostling would slosh tea all over her.

  “I met an artist who said Sasha was a buyer for an area business,” Felicity said.

  “Oh, yeah,” Maddie said, turning to her. “She loved her job. Sometimes she showed me things she’d ordered. She’d buy a couple of pieces from artists and take them back to the shop, and even if the owner didn’t want to order more, he’d still carry those pieces. She had his trust and it really pleased her.”

  Felicity asked about the name of the business, and Maddie produced a card for a store in Pittsfield. “They must do well in the tourist season.” Felicity ran her fingers over the heavy paper stock and the embossed logo in the lower righthand corner. Anyone would be impressed with it.

  “She was on salary, but she said she might get a commission also if some items did really well.” Maddie settled deeper into the sofa. “She knew where she was going. She could be hard-nosed if she had to be. Tell me again how you knew her?”

  Felicity took a sip of her tea and then put the mug on the table, pushing aside a pile of magazines to do so. “I only met her once. She came by to ask about my CSA garden, which I’ve just started. But she really wanted to talk about my property.”

  “Oh. I didn’t know she was interested in farming.”

  Felicity decided it was time to take the plunge. “I didn’t think so either, but they found her on my land, in the woods. Actually, I found her, and I’m not sure if her being there was an accident.”

  Maddie sat up and looked at her, then turned away, frowning. She pressed her lips together. She started to speak, then stopped.

  “What?” Felicity leaned closer. “That means something to you. What?”

  “I’m not sure.”

  “Whatever it is, I’d like to know.”

  Maddie glanced at her, then settled back. “I had a conversation with her about her boyfriend.” She held the mug close to her chest. “Sasha didn’t take it seriously. She was much too practical.”

  “What didn’t she take seriously?”

&nbs
p; “The idea of hidden treasure. You see what I mean? It sounds ridiculous.”

  “What kind of hidden treasure?”

  “Sasha never said, because I don’t think she believed in it.”

  “Can you recall exactly what she said?”

  Maddie smacked her lips and continued to hold the mug. “It was only the one conversation. Sasha’s boyfriend had this idea that one of her ancestors buried some kind of treasure in the woods and then lost control of the property, and if they could just get to all of it, they’d be as rich as Bill Gates.”

  “That might explain the map,” Felicity said, growing thoughtful.

  “I don’t remember any map.”

  “Someone told me she saw Sasha and her boyfriend going over a map, but I never heard about buried treasure anywhere in this area.”

  “Kyle seemed to think it was a well-known family secret.” Maddie gave Felicity a quizzical look.

  Felicity considered the plausibility of this tale. “The whole idea is pretty far out there. I mean, hidden treasure in the forest? It’s like kids playing pirates. Who would believe someone buried treasure out there?”

  “Well, Sasha’s boyfriend did.” Maddie laughed.

  Felicity looked across the room at the well-worn furniture, the dining table pushed against the wall, and the television sitting askew on an old bookcase. The apartment showed little wealth in its furnishings, and little evidence of an interest in housekeeping, but Maddie seemed a sensible sort, and so had Sasha. Neither one seemed like the type who would buy into a hare-brained scheme to make money.

  “Does the name ‘Bodrun’ mean anything to you? The death announcement gave Bodrun as part of her mother’s name.”

  Maddie shook her head, her interest clearly waning. “She might have been in that family line but she never mentioned it. I don’t think she cared about that sort of thing.”

  “There’s an old cabin on an abutting property. It isn’t near where she died, exactly, but it isn’t far from my farm’s boundary, and you can walk straight down through the woods to where we found her. Her great grandfather owned it way back, and it looks like someone has been living in it recently.”

  Maddie sipped her tea. “You always hear stories around here about the old guys who went off hunting and never came back, or the one who sold the farm and put out the wife and kids and took off for someplace else. I never know if I should believe those or not. But maybe he was the one who buried the treasure?”

  “Ezekial Bodrun?” This seemed too far-fetched to even consider.

  Maddie had seemed to take a liking to Felicity, and now held out the key to Sasha’s apartment. “A couple times Sasha locked herself out, so we exchanged keys.” She looked at the key resting in her palm. “Her family will want to clean her place soon, but I don’t think they’d mind if you went in. Do you know what you’re looking for?”

  Felicity knew the question would come and had prepared an answer. “I gave her a stack of my CSA pamphlets to hand out to places she visited.” She paused. “They’re expensive to print, and I thought if she hadn’t given them out, I’d like to have them back.”

  Maddie didn’t question this, and Felicity climbed the stairs to the second floor wondering what she’d find. She hoped to find a reason for Sasha being on her land, but then she hoped she wouldn’t. What she really wanted was for the whole problem to go away—the person trespassing near her house late at night, the idea of buried treasure on her land, and the body of a young woman left to die in the woods. But life wasn’t that easy.

  The key slid in, the lock turning as though it were little more than a latch, and the door swung open. The three rooms were small; without walls they would have made a single room of average size in a new house. The furniture in the living room was modest: a futon with a blue plaid cover, a rattan chair with a cushion, and a small coffee table. A standing lamp in the corner illuminated a small table. In the bedroom a foam mattress sat on a platform. A third room seemed to be used as a work room or study, with three small tables lined up next to each other and covered with photos of jewelry and other handmade items. Felicity picked up one brochure describing the work of artists at the Mill in West Woodbury. She rifled through the other materials but found nothing of interest.

  In the bedroom closet, Felicity pushed aside hangers holding the kind of wardrobe she expected—a number of mix and match suit pieces, nice slacks, several pairs of shoes (apparently Sasha liked her shoes), and a row of purses (she liked these even more). On the dresser was a small jewelry box with little piles of bracelets and rings, reminding Felicity of the first time she saw Sasha, with her beringed fingers. She was about to give up and leave when she noticed a small stack of paper beneath a pillow on a rocking chair by the bedroom window. She pulled it out. It wasn’t a stack of paper. It was a large map folded and refolded. She opened it up and spread it out on the bed.

  The map covered Western Massachusetts and Southern Vermont and New Hampshire. Felicity didn’t see anything special about it, but as she studied it more closely, she noticed several light pencil circles—one on part of a state forest, one near Zeke Bodrun’s cabin, one near the boundary of her property, and another that covered the old highway and part of Old Town Road.

  It was hard to tell if the penciled-in circles were doodles or intended to mark specific sites, but either way, Felicity wanted to remember them. She couldn’t take the map with her, so she described the map and circles in a small notebook. She stuffed this back into her pocketbook, then refolded the map and returned it to the rocking chair.

  In the living room, she studied a row of small, framed photographs sitting along the mantelpiece. These were the usual pictures of family gatherings, parties with friends, special trips. But behind one frame, near the end, leaned a photo of two people, Clarissa Jenkins and a man whose image was too blurry to be useful. It looked like a selfie badly done. But it also reminded her of the photograph Kevin Algren had found in Clarissa’s car, the one he assumed depicted Clarissa and her fiancé. If this was the same man, he certainly didn’t cooperate when the camera was around. Felicity slid the picture back behind the frame.

  “You have kids?” Maddie leaned against the screen door, a cigarette in one hand, her elbow resting in the other. Felicity returned the key to Sasha’s apartment and shook her head no. “I had my boy when I was still in high school but I managed to finish,” Maddie said. “My parents and my boyfriend’s parents made it a condition of helping us that we both do so. So we both did. But he took off and I stayed.” She glanced back through the doorway. “And you’re tied to a farm.”

  “Well, I inherited my family farm. I don’t think of myself as tied to it, but in some ways I guess I am.” Felicity understood how others saw her position, a still-young woman, not yet forty years old, bound to acres of land and an old house that always seemed close to collapsing, the money pit of the movies and the minefield of marriages.

  “My son works his father-in-law’s farm, and it’s tough.” Maddie finished her cigarette and dropped the butt onto the porch, grinding it out with the sole of her shoe. “He’s in the hospital now for surgery. He hurt his back maybe a couple of years ago and he’s been working through the pain, but he got addicted to those pills and finally his wife said, get help or get out.”

  “She sounds like a good one.” Felicity smiled along with Maddie.

  “Best thing that ever happened to him. So now he’s in for surgery and then rehab.”

  “And you’re picking up the slack.” Both women glanced through the open doorway to the now-quiet apartment, where the granddaughter was sleeping peacefully. “I saw a photograph up there of her mother’s cousin, Clarissa Jenkins, and a man I didn’t recognize. Was that her fiancé?”

  “Coulda been.” Maddie frowned. “I never met him, but Sasha said they’d just gotten engaged and were going to have a party to announce it, but then she died. Sasha’s dad mig
ht know who he is.”

  “It sounds like Clarissa was pretty close-mouthed about the relationship.” Felicity turned as a warm breeze swept up the porch steps.

  “Sasha said the same thing.” Maddie kicked the cigarette butt off the porch with the toe of her shoe. “Thought maybe Clarissa worried the family wouldn’t approve.”

  “Are they like that? The disapproving type?”

  “No, no. Sasha’s dad is a real nice guy.” Maddie stood up straight. “He’d stop to chat sometimes if he got here before she got home from work and he said a few weeks ago that he wanted Sasha to move closer to him.”

  “Where does he live?”

  “The other side of Lanark.”

  “That’s not very far,” Felicity said.

  “No, but he seemed kinda worried about her.” Maddie crossed her arms. “He asked me once if I ever felt my son had turned into a stranger.”

  “Was he worried about anything specific?”

  Maddie took a moment to watch a red car across the street pull into traffic. “He didn’t say, but he wanted her to get ahead. She knew how to do it—work hard, keep your nose clean, learn as much as you can, and be the best one—she told me that when she was getting ready to ask for a raise. But I think she was beginning to be too hard-driving. Her dad was successful, yes, but easygoing, and Sasha was losing that easygoing style. I guess he was worried she was hanging around with the wrong people.”

  “Like Kyle?”

  Maddie lowered her chin and looked hard at her. “Exactly like Kyle.”

  Nine

  Felicity’s phone rang just as she was about to pull onto the road. She was pondering the map she’d found in Sasha’s apartment and almost didn’t answer her cell.

  “I’m heading over to your place,” Jeremy said, “but I thought I’d check to make sure you were there.”

  Felicity explained she was on her way back from East Lanark.

  “I don’t want to know what you’re doing, do I?”