“But she won’t sell?”
“No way, no how. Claims her son hunts the property, and she likes her privacy. Don’t dare show up selling vacuum cleaners, she’ll run you off so fast the rubber on your shoes will burn up.”
“Wait.” Abe leaned over the property, following the line of pencils to the road on the north side of the estate. He leaned closer and read. “Misty Lane?”
“Yep.” Jack ran his finger down the road. “Runs near-parallel with Sapphire - as much as any road can run parallel out here. When you’ve got woods and hills and sand dunes to contend with, roads get rather twisty. This property here,” Jack pointed to a driveway marked on the north side, “belongs to Dr. Crow.”
“12 Misty Lane?” Abe asked, incredulous. “Does he have a son?”
“No children and no wife. Though I’ve seen a young man around there over the years. He’s a gangly fellow, all arms and legs, long hair in his face. Not too friendly.”
“And Virginia Crow’s husband died?”
“Sure did. Twenty-some odd years ago now. Nice man, too. Hector Crow. He and his wife had barely lived on the Peninsula five years when he passed. Byron already lived there. You see, the Crow boys grew up in Chicago, but visited Leelanau in the summer with their parents. Their father, Troy Crow, bought that piece of land intending to build a summer house, but then he stroked and died before they ever broke ground. The mother split the land between her boys. She couldn’t bear to return, apparently. Byron Crow built his house on Misty Lane fresh out of medical school and took a job at the asylum. Hector lived in Chicago until he got married. Then he packed up and moved north to Leelanau. Hector hung out his shingle as a dentist. He had a little practice in Leelanau, and also performed dental visits at the asylum. Never went to him myself, but townsfolk spoke highly of him.”
Abe continued to study the map, trying to make sense of the connections. Connections, not coincidences, his dad used to tell him when too many seemingly unrelated parts kept appearing together. The shaggy man from the park, Ben, lived on the same piece of property as Spencer with the gold car. Spencer had visited the park Orla disappeared from. Ben was spotted in Elder Park where Orla’s bike was found.
“A duo?” Abe wondered aloud.
“A duo?” Jack repeated back to him.
“Sorry, thinking out loud.” He tapped a finger on his head. “I’m curious about Spencer Crow. Ever heard anything about him? Has he got into trouble? That kind of thing?”
Jack grinned.
“Gossip says he’s broken a few hearts - what with that shiny gold car and those big blue eyes - but nothing unusual. He’s studying to be a psychiatrist like his good ol’ Uncle Byron, so he spends the school year in Ann Arbor.”
“Have any names that go with those broken hearts?”
Jack grinned. “You are tenacious like your father, Abe Sevett.” He rolled the map and returned it to his bag. “I know the name of one girl because her mother works here at the museum, but if you speak with her, keep me out of the conversation. Last thing I need is Patty’s mom in here giving me the evil eye all week.”
“Patty?”
“Patty Janik. She works at the Frosty Cone in Suttons Bay. Bright green eyes, long blonde hair, you can’t miss her. And remember, you didn’t hear about her from me.”
Hazel
“I’d like a strawberry ice cream cone, please,” Hazel told the pretty blonde girl through the window at Frosty Cone.
“That will be twenty-six cents,” the girl said, handing Hazel the cone.
Hazel gave her the change, and then glanced behind her. No other customers stood in line for ice cream.
“Are you Patty Janik?” Hazel asked.
The girl smiled.
“Sure am. And you are?”
“My name’s Brenda,” Hazel lied. “And this probably seems far out, but my best friend has just started dating a guy and I heard you used to go out with him.”
Patty frowned.
“Bret?”
Hazel shook her head.
“His name is Spencer.”
Patty scowled.
“Bummer for her. He’s a total phony.” Patty whipped her hair over one shoulder.
“Really? I wondered,” Hazel murmured. “Any chance you have a couple minutes to tell me about him.”
Patty nodded.
“Wendy, I’m taking a break.”
Patty emerged from a side door in the little ice cream shop.
“There’s a bench over there.” Patty pointed to a park bench across the street. “I went out with Spencer for two months last summer,” Patty started, before she’d even sat down. “He seemed nice at first, and it didn’t hurt he drives that beautiful car.”
“The gold one?” Hazel asked.
Patty nodded.
“Anyway, after a month, he started acting weird, not showing up for dates, missing on Friday and Saturday nights. I mean, seriously, what’s the point of having a boyfriend who’s not around on Friday and Saturday nights?”
“Agreed. If my boyfriend didn’t show up on Friday night, I’d tell him to get lost.”
“Exactly. After a few weeks, I told him to forget my number. I’d warn your friend to stay away from him.”
“Anything else? Was he mean or anything?”
Patty shook her head.
“Not mean, but…“ Patty laughed. “I used to joke to my girlfriend, Annie, he was like having a cardboard boyfriend. Half the time I’d be telling him a story, and he’d give me this blank look like he hadn’t listened to a word I said.” Patty kicked her legs out in front of her and lifted one long, tanned leg, admiring her purple toenail polish. “And another strange thing? He cut my hair one time.”
“He cut your hair?” Hazel asked.
“It was bizarre. He must have thought I was sleeping. The sound of the scissors cutting startled me, and I opened my eyes to find him holding a piece of my hair. He got up real quick and threw it away. Or said he threw it away. He claimed there was gum in it.”
“But you didn’t believe him?”
Patty reached for her hair, running her fingers through it and examining the long strands.
Hazel noticed a striking resemblance between Patty and the missing girls.
“I did at the time, but later… I don’t know. It bugged me when I thought about it.”
Chapter 35
Orla
Orla’s body ached, and when Ben pulled back the sheet to wash her, he gasped and stumbled back.
She couldn’t see the bruises, but she felt them. Her throat ached as if the man had strangled her.
Ben swallowed, visibly shaken, and stepped back to her bedside.
“Who?” he started, glancing fearfully at the door.
“Dr. Frederic,” she mumbled, tears sliding over her sore cheeks.
Ben put his head in his hands and shook his head for a moment.
“Please unstrap me,” she whispered. “I promise I won’t try to escape. I just need. I need…” But the sobs had begun, and she could no longer speak. As she cried and tried to force air beneath her bruised ribs, Ben hastily undid the straps on her forearms and ankles. He put his hands behind her back and helped her up to sitting. She ached between her legs. And when she sat, she saw bite marks on her thighs. The tears flooded and pooled in her lap. Ben held her awkwardly, a hand pressed against her back.
“There’s a room down the hall with a bathtub. I washed it out a few days ago. I can take you there, but please, please don’t run away,” he pleaded.