Page 102 of A Little Luck
“I know, you can’t tell me details, but you have to tell me something. It’s important.”
Seconds like hours tick past as he seems to weigh his options and my level of determination. “A woman was killed by her husband. Her sister is determined to bring him to justice, so she asked me to come here and find Rosie. She hopes Rosie might help her.”
“Why would Rosie help her?”
“Rosie was Ethan’s first wife. Years ago, she supposedly died in a tragic car accident.”
My chest tightens, and it’s hard to breathe. “She didn’t?”
“Ethan hired a PI, and they discovered she was still alive and living under an assumed name. About nine years ago, she briefly reappeared, but she disappeared again just as quick. I’m trying to find her before he does.”
About nine years ago, Mom didn’t want me to use our name at the hospital, but I insisted…
“I don’t know anyone named Rosie McClure, but I’m pretty sure I know someone who does.” He’s in Gwen’s kitchen, and my heart flashes. “Would you say Ethan McClure is dangerous?”
“So far, he’s only dangerous to the women he marries, but I wouldn’t get in his way.” Marshall puts his hands on his hips. “If you know something, you’d better tell me. Don’t go off trying to stop this guy on your own.”
“I wouldn’t do that.” Not after seeing what he looks like. “But I can’t speak for Gwen, and I just saw him at her house. Do you know where she lives?”
“Yeah, your boyfriend gave me the tour last week.”
Marshall and I look at each other for a split second before we both start moving fast, heading for the stairs.
“I’ll go to Gwen’s,” he says, charging out the door.
I don’t tell him where I’m going. Primarily because I’m starting to realize, I might have been wrong about everything.
* * *
I leavethe truck on the side of the sandy gravel road and take off on foot into the pine trees, palmettos, and live oaks. I’m a few miles outside of town in the opposite direction of the distillery, away from the ocean.
When we were kids, we heard stories about the old mansion that burned to the ground. Only a foundation and two crumbling brick fireplaces are still standing, and parents would say it was haunted.
They’d tell us the original owners were killed in the fire, and they wandered the place at night, searching for their kids or their pets or whatever the grown-ups thought would keep us away from here.
Even as a teenager, I knew they said it to keep us from playing around the ruins and getting hurt. Mom never joined in the haunted chatter, but one night she said the most dangerous thing out here were snakes.
She said it in such a specific way, I got the feeling she’d encountered one. I asked her about it, and that’s when she hit me with her cryptic warning.
“The old fruit cellar behind the second chimney is still in good condition,” she’d said. “It’s another place to go if it’s too late…”
I can still hear her offhand observation while stacking mason jars in the kitchen. I’d been heading out the door to meet everyone at the beach, and the last thing I cared about was another fallout shelter or secret hideout or whatever. I now realize my mother knew every place to hide in Eureka.
Looking all around, I keep to the tree line as I make my way around the perimeter of what used to be a yard. I’m pretty sure I wasn’t followed, but if she really is here, I’d like to be able to say I kept her location secure.
Watching out for hibernating snakes, I cut up in the direction of the second chimney, slowing down as I scan the ground, the old foundation, looking everywhere for a cellar door.
It’s so remote and isolated here, my chest unexpectedly twists. I picture her hiding here, alone, and for the first time in my life, I want to cry. For so long she feared this day would come.
My toe hits something on the ground, and I stumble. Catching myself, I turn to see it’s the wooden corner of a door in the ground, only the wood is new. It’s painted to blend with the scenery, and when I lift the handle, it opens silently.
Steps lead down into a dark pit, and while I know I’ll either find it empty or holding my mom, fear tenses my muscles. I take out my phone and turn on the light, holding it down into the hole.
“Mom?” I call in a normal tone. I don’t want to yell or surprise her.
When I get no response, I take a deep breath and slowly descend the steps with the light in front of me. Before I step onto the earthen floor, I scan all around for snakes again.
Seeing nothing, I step into the open space. It’s completely empty. It smells like damp earth and old ash, and I’m not sure what to think. Light shines in from the overhead entrance, and I go to the walls, shining my light up and down them, looking for another passage or hidden door.