IN CASE YOU MISSED IT: CHAPTER 24 WAS PRIVATE
~*~*~
When Emma opened her eyes, she did not see pines towering over her, or feel the gentle swaying of the dock beneath her. Turning over, she realized Ryan must have carried her inside sometime during the night. Her heart stuttered when she caught sight of him in the bed next to her. A muscled bicep was draped over his eyes, his mouth slightly parted. Every so often, he would make little noises like he was dreaming, making her lips twitch into a fond smile. She was about to get up, when her name whispered across his lips. She froze. He didn't move or say anything else, and while she was tempted to wake him up by tasting those smooth, sculpted lips, she wanted time alone with her thoughts more.
Fifteen minutes later, Emma had carefully extricated herself from the bed, and was curled up in the old porch swing with her coffee, inhaling deeply. The fresh, spicy scent of pine-laden air filled her senses, and curled around her in a wave of nostalgia.
Suddenly she was five-years-old again, camping with her grandparents. As soon as she heard the early morning birdsong breaking the stillness, she'd jump up and creep out of bed. Stealing out onto the little porch, she'd find her Grandpa, and climb into his lap. She'd snuggle against his chest, as he drank his morning coffee, they would watch the forest come to life around them.
It struck her that, while it did not cover the breadth of her memories, this setting was the essence of what she cherished about him. It was moments like this—the stillness, the smell of the forest, black coffee, and the faint, sweet scent of pipe-tobacco that conjured up the image of him that she held in her heart. The one that was the sum-total of who he was, and how she remembered him whenever he came to mind. His rumbling, faintly wheezy laugh, the lilt in his voice when he teased her, making her giggle along with him, and his kind, twinkling eyes.
She never knew a gentler, more tender-hearted man; he wouldn't even kill a spider. Once, when some hornets built a nest under the eaves on the house, he bundled up in head-to-toe winter gear, in the middle of summer. After he smoked the nest, he walked two miles to relocate them to the nearby woods. When she asked why he didn't just kill them, he asked her why he should kill them needlessly, when it was only a little more effort to find them a more appropriate home.
He'd gazed down at her with kind brown eyes, ever the patient teacher. "Even the smallest life has significance, Emmy. It shouldn't be up to any one person to decide who is worthy of living or dying."
Most people never saw anything but a quiet, good-natured man, but he always showed her his more vulnerable side, his true depth. It was like he knew she needed it.
He always took a little bit more time with her. He taught her how to fish, find and pick edible berries, build a fire, navigate the woods, and so much more.
He taught her to learn by watching and listening. Because of him, she felt strong, smart, and capable. All the things she longed to be; all the things her mother wasn't.
It occurred to her, as she reminisced, that Ryan made her feel the same way.
It was really bothering her that she was having so much trouble telling him that she loved him, too. In the back of her mind, though, nagging doubts lingered. She was plagued by the fear that she would get so caught up in him that she would lose herself.
A little sigh escaped as the magic of the night before came back to her. He'd made love to her without actually doing the deed—not just her body, either. He knew what she needed—what she craved to feel, and to hear. He knew how to make her feel cherished and special instinctively. Which, honestly, is exactly what made her so uncomfortable with him from the beginning. He understood her in spite of the walls she put up. And she couldn't hide from the uncanny connection she felt toward him.
Sometimes, it felt like he was measuring her, just like he would scrutinize a piece of lumber before he decided what he was going to make with it. Like he knew exactly how she would behave, and the best way to get the desired results. It was unnerving.
Something else was bothering her, too. Though, she was sure there was something he wasn't telling her the other day, she'd let it be at the time. But she knew when someone was lying to her-it was practically a survival skill. She was already in deep with Ryan. If he wasn't really the man she thought he was, she didn't know if she could handle it. Until she knew for sure, she just couldn't say the words he wanted to hear. The words she wanted to say so badly that they were right on the tip of her tongue.
She finished her coffee, drinking in the ambiance of the forest awakening. In spite of all of the thoughts pinging around in her skull, she felt calmer, more centered. Being up here always did that for her. After a little while, she heard Evan come lumbering down the stairs, and then he and Ryan talking in quiet tones. Her coffee needed refilling, and she wanted to get to work on the safe, so she got up and headed inside.
~*~*~
"Morning boys!" she smiled, placing a kiss on both of their heads as she breezed over to the coffee pot.
"How come you're all chipper this morning?" Evan grumbled.
"It's a beautiful morning, big brother! Don't be so grumpy," she teased.
"I'm not grumpy, it's just too damned early for smiles and talking."
"Oh, come on, Ev," Ryan chimed in, "When do you ever think it's time for smiles and talking?" He laughed as Evan sent him a withering glare.
Emma grinned. With her coffee in hand, she walked over to where Ryan was sitting, and perched on his knee. He smiled that boyish, heart-melting smile at her, and she leaned over to place a lingering kiss on his delectable lips.
"Mm... Who couldn't be happy with such a nice good morning?" he said, low enough for just her to hear.
She smiled and leaned back, laying her head on his shoulder.
"What are you guys going to do today?" she asked.
"Gotta go check some of the trails," Evan said. "Mr. Hanson, at the general store, said he thought some poachers were setting traps in the woods up here. Didn't look like they'd used the cabin, but I don't want any surprises. Ryan can come with, if he wants. I'm borrowing Hanson's ATV."
"Ugh," Emma grimaced, "I thought the DNR took care of the poaching problem after that hiker got caught in a bear trap last year." She hated the idea of their secluded piece of land being used for such a disgusting practice. It was a little surprising, too. The DNR, or the Department of Natural Resources, was usually on top of things like this—and they had a lot of power—nearly a law enforcement agency unto themselves.
"It was, for a little while," Ryan said, "but you know poachers, they're like roaches—just keep coming back when no one's looking. The DNR does fly-overs and checks out anything suspicious, but the woods here are so dense, that unless they get a tip, they don't check. Plus, those forest fires up north really stretched them thin." Nodding toward Evan, he said, "I'll come with. It's not a good idea to go looking for traps by yourself."
Evan nodded his agreement. "What about you, Em?"
"I am going to get that safe open," she declared. "I was thinking of a hike, but now I'm glad I waited. Falling into a pit or bear trap doesn't sound like a whole lot of fun."
Ryan deposited Emma on the chair, and got up, to start cooking breakfast. He fried bacon and eggs, and made toast. By the time they were finished eating, and he and Evan had the kitchen clean, it was nearly ten a.m. The men said goodbye to Emma, leaving her sitting in front of the safe, with a handful of little slips of paper.
"No files?" Evan asked.
"Nope, I don't think I'll need them," she chirped hopefully, waving him off. "Be careful, boys! Don't get eaten!"
They muttered good-naturedly in response, and set off.
~*~*~
Emma was eager to get to work. Once she realized the safe was probably her dad's instead of her grandpa's, she had an idea. When she went through all her grandparent's files, she found they had several pertaining to her dad. One of the files contained nothing more than a pile of old lotto tickets, paper-clipped together. She didn't know why, but she just knew they were the key. It was always the same numbers. Now, when she examined them more carefully, she realized they were a mix of the days and months of hers, Evan's, and her dad's birthdays. His lucky numbers.
Wasting no more time, she got to work. It wasn't as easy as she first thought. The series of numbers on the tickets were never in the same order, and after three hours, Emma was about ready to give up. Even if the numbers were the right ones, there were still hundreds of possibilities, and she was getting tired, hungry, and her eyes were burning.
Just a few more before I quit, she bargained with herself.
First try: Nope.
Second: No... that isn't it, either.
Third try: Spin the knob back and forth, carefully. Stop at the last number. Yank on the handle uselessly once ag-
It opened!
"I did it!" she squealed, looking around, and then remembering she was alone. Her euphoria was only slightly lessened. Her hands were shaking a little as she started to pull the door open. Anything could be in there—money, drugs, even the jewels from the robbery. Her eyes widened a little at the last one. They had never been recovered...
Slowly, she pulled the door open, not sure what she might find. She didn't actually know much about her dad. He'd become a taboo subject for her a long time ago. In her heart, he abandoned her. Sure, he'd been murdered, but it was because of what he did.
Just like Julie, he put her and Evan last, for something he wanted. Grandma Edie, and even Greta, tried to talk to her about him many times, but she wouldn't have it. Now, she wondered if she was mistaken. Especially after her visit with Greta. She insisted her dad was a good man. She wouldn't have thought that if he had committed that robbery and gotten himself killed, would she?
Huh...
She didn't know what she expected to find when she swung that door open, but the reality was far less exciting than any of the crazy possibilities that had run through her mind.
There were a couple of large manila envelopes, a file folder, a small leather-bound book, and some little keep-sakes. She smiled at the pairs of baby shoes that must have been her and Evan's, and the little photo album with baby pictures of the both of them.
As she drew out the rest of the items, her hands were actually shaking a little. It felt like looking into a time-capsule. One that contained her history. A history she was shamefully ignorant about.
She opened the file, first. Inside, was a number of newspaper clippings. When she looked more closely, she realized they were all pertaining to one topic—the robbery.
It kind of made sense, since he was under suspicion for it. A small thrill of excitement ran through her. It was a subject she really didn't know much about, and if her dad had kept this stuff locked in the safe, hidden away in that cabinet, it had to be important, right?
She was disappointed to find that the articles held very little information about the case. They still contained more information than she knew, though. The jewels were part of an exhibit that the original family loaned the museum, and their value was estimated near 10 million dollars. A new security system and extra guards were required for the six-month long exhibit, but the museum cut corners, allowing holes for the thief or thieves to slip through.
On the night the theft occurred, there were only two guards on duty (names withheld), and installation of the new security system had been postponed until the following week. Every last piece of the exhibit was taken, with barely a whisper of a clue. Emma scoured all of the articles, but there was no actual mention of her dad's name, or the other guard, for that matter. The best she found was a couple of articles saying the police had leads, and a few "persons of interest."
Putting the clippings back into the file, she grabbed the little leather-bound book. It was a journal, filled with cryptic little notes, in handwriting she recognized as her dad's. Many of the entries began with a time and date, and then a short description of different events. No names were noted, just initials. Emma couldn't make heads or tails of it. She did notice that the book had dates that went back almost a year before her dad died, and the last entry was just two days before he was shot. She also noticed an increase in entries for the month surrounding the robbery. Even more confused now, she closed the journal, and set that off to the side as well.
Next, she grabbed the little white envelope, and opened it. It contained nothing but a long, wide, brass key. Flipping the envelope over, and looking inside, she found no note to indicate what it was for. She placed the key back inside the envelope, and set it on top of the journal.
She found police reports inside one of the manila envelopes. They were also about the robbery, but they were considerably more detailed than the newspaper articles. She found statements her father had given, as well as the other guard—a Garth Nelson.
Though she hoped there would be some indication of his innocence, she had to admit, it was easy to see why her father had been the prime suspect. The jewels were kept in a locked room on the side of the Museum he was in charge of, and he had the only key to it. Garth patrolled the grounds, and did not have access to that part of the mansion. Even worse for her dad, his keys went missing afterward. Additionally, the passcode was used to bypass the old alarm-system. Even as outdated as it was, Emma mused, not just anyone would have that.
Her brow furrowed in contemplation and she chewed on the inside of her cheek. Why would her father have collected all of this stuff? Was he guilty, and just trying to follow the investigation? Was he really innocent, and just trying to figure out who did it? She had never tried to find out what really happened. He was dead, she was an orphan-that was all she'd cared to know. But now, she felt an itch to know more. Setting aside that folder, she reached for the last one.
The one, which, as it turned out, was the most interesting of all. Her mouth fell open as she dumped out the contents.
Pictures. A lot of pictures.
There was also a billing slip and a report with the name of a private investigator printed at the top.
It was the pictures that made her stop breathing, though. Just as her trembling fingers were about to pick them up for closer examination, the cabin door opened, and she turned to face Evan and Ryan.
"Emma, what's wrong?" Ryan was the first through the door, and immediately went to her side when he saw the pallor of her skin. His eyes fell on the photos in her hand, and widened. "Emma..."
"Did you know about this?" she whispered.
*A/N:
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