The Sisters of Blue Mountain Read online

  “Why not?”

  “He’s with a professor from the university. And you know how Pop doesn’t like to be disturbed when he’s working.”

  She stared at Linnet, trying to decide whether her sister was right. But of course she was. When was her sister ever wrong about anything? Once, she thought. Her sister was so very wrong, once.

  “Okay,” Myna said, and sat back down. “I guess I can wait until the morning.” She turned to Hank, redirecting the conversation to avoid the uneasiness she sensed in the room. “So tell me what you’ve been up to?” She peppered him with questions about school and baseball. When she mentioned girls, he replied, “Ew, gross.” So he isn’t there, yet, Myna thought with a smile. He was still a boy in many ways despite how much bigger he looked now that she was finally in the same room with him, face-to-face. He was in that awkward stage, his arms and legs lanky, all folded in sharp angles.

  When the conversation died down, Ian ushered Hank upstairs, giving the sisters some time alone. Not that either one had asked for it. The kitchen was quiet without the guys. Myna was the youngest, so naturally she expected Linnet to speak first.

  “So you’re home,” Linnet said.

  “I’m home,” Myna said. “Is that okay?”

  “Why wouldn’t it be?”

  “I don’t know. It’s just the way you said it, so you’re home.”

  “I didn’t mean anything by it,” Linnet said. She looked tired. Her eyes were plagued with the dark circles of a stressful day. “You can have the guest room on the right at the end of the hall.” Linnet and Ian had taken over the master bedroom, and Hank slept in the room the sisters had shared. The four guest rooms were located on the third floor at the opposite end of the house.

  Myna played with her fingernail. Then she smoothed the long wrap skirt that had bunched up in her lap. Her face and arms were tan from the Florida sun except for the oblong discoloration on her left forearm. It was bleached white. Their mother had the same blemish. Myna suspected Linnet used to envy the birthmark, a connection that had once belonged to Myna and their mother alone.

  Now, she bet her sister was glad she didn’t have a constant reminder branded on her skin.

  “That will be great,” Myna said about the room.

  Neither one spoke after that. The silence between them became unbearable.

  “If you don’t mind, it’s been a long day,” Linnet said. “Breakfast is at nine if you want to join us.”

  “Great. Thanks.” She returned to picking her nail.

  “Well, good night,” Linnet said, pausing outside the kitchen doorway and turning back to stare at her. She was finally giving Myna a look she recognized, the older-sister glare, saying, There’s something you’re not telling me.

  Her sister wanted to know the real reason why Myna had come running home.

  CHAPTER TEN

  Linnet was in the kitchen helping Cora prepare breakfast for the Rapps and the young couple, who had requested a tray be sent to their room. Hank hadn’t gotten up yet, and Linnet had no idea if Myna was awake or not. She wanted to knock on her sister’s door and ask if she’d be joining them for breakfast, but she didn’t want to sound, what? Pushy? Bossy?

  Too much like a big sister.

  The house smelled of eggs and bacon and Saturday mornings. It was Linnet’s favorite day of the week, when she could sit at the kitchen table with her family and they could talk over a leisurely meal without either of her guys having to rush out the door for work and school.

  She wiped her hands on a tea towel after buttering a stack of toast. “I’m going to get Pop,” she told Cora.

  Ian walked into the kitchen, freshly showered and wearing a grin. “I’ll go get him for you,” he said. Last night she’d been so tired, but she’d been unable to fall asleep. First the birds and then her sister’s arrival had both surprised and hurt her, each in a different way, leaving her feeling open and raw. She’d reached for Ian for comfort, wanting his long, lean body to envelop every inch of her, to wrap her in the safety of his love. She’d cried out louder than she’d intended, not wanting to wake up Hank, but she’d been overwhelmed with desire, the physical need to be as close to Ian as she could be. She hadn’t been that uninhibited in the bedroom in quite some time. Ian hadn’t complained.

  She watched out the garden window as he strolled across the backyard. His hands were in his pockets, and she could’ve sworn he was whistling. She smiled to herself and picked up the plate of toast. She was about to turn around to put it on the table when she noticed he stopped walking suddenly. She paused, wondering what it was that caught his attention, the plate in her hand hanging in midair. He craned his neck toward the path that led through the woods to the dam. His stride lengthened as he made his way over to whatever it was. Her breath stalled and her pulse raced. It was the way he moved, fast and purposeful, that she sensed something was wrong, the way you knew it was bad before you even understood what had happened.

  He knelt on one knee, looking at something on the ground. He shook whatever it was as though he were trying to wake it up.

  “What is it?” she asked, although he obviously couldn’t hear her.

  Cora turned from the stove, the spatula in her hand dripping grease onto the floor. “What’s wrong?”

  Ian looked toward the house. His face was pale where a minute ago it had been flushed with happiness. Now he appeared as though he were going to be sick. He caught sight of Linnet in the garden window.

  “What is it?” she shouted, dropping the plate of toast when another thought cut across her mind. Pop. She raced through the kitchen and flung herself out the side door, running toward Ian, who had started rushing toward her. He met her halfway in the yard and caught her in his arms.

  “Hang on,” he said.

  “Pop!” She peered over his shoulder, struggling to get around him.

  “No,” he said, and grabbed her arms. “It’s the young professor. What’s his name? Professor Coyle.”

  “It’s not Pop?”

  Ian shook his head. “It’s not Pop.”

  “I was so scared.” She exhaled, her lungs deflating like a leaky balloon. Ian’s grip on her biceps loosened now that she had calmed down. She swallowed hard. “Is he okay?” she asked about Professor Coyle, who was clearly not okay.

  His body lay motionless on the ground.

  Ian shook his head and pulled out his cell phone. “Hello, yes, I need an ambulance,” he said, and gave the address for the B&B. He looked in Linnet’s eyes as he said to whomever was on the other line, “And I think you better send the police.”

  * * *

  Ian waited in the backyard for the ambulance or the police—whomever would arrive first. Linnet headed to the guesthouse as the sun made its way over the mountain. The air smelled damp and earthy, mixed with something rotten. In the not far distance, she heard sirens. She hadn’t said anything to Ian outright, but she was worried about how Pop would react to the commotion, the news of Professor Coyle. She and Ian had had numerous conversations and some disagreements in the last few weeks about Pop’s increasing forgetfulness.

  “It’s not something that gets better,” Ian had said. “There is no cure. You shouldn’t be expected to care for him and make all the decisions where he’s concerned. It’s your sister’s responsibility, too.”

  “She doesn’t know how bad it’s gotten. Besides, he lives here with me. Us,” she quickly corrected herself and then added, “I won’t put him in a home.”

  An exasperated look had crossed Ian’s face. The topic of her father and sister had become an instant blemish on their otherwise happy marriage.

  She knocked on the door and called, “Pop.” Please, let this be one of your good days, she thought, before letting herself in with the key she always kept in her front pocket. She nearly tripped over the cooler with the frozen birds inside, bumping her shin in the process. Ouch. It blocked the entranceway along with the young professor’s boxes and another cooler that must’ve belo
nged to him as well. It took her a second to process why his things would still be stacked by the door. It became apparent he hadn’t left last night like he’d planned. Otherwise, the samples of water he’d collected and the geese would’ve been at the university lab. She didn’t know why, but she’d assumed whatever had happened to him had taken place this morning, but it appeared that wasn’t the case at all. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she recalled seeing his car in the driveway wet with dew when she’d rushed outside thinking it had been Pop on the ground in the yard. At the time, she hadn’t processed what it had meant. The professor’s car had sat there all night, another sign he’d never left.

  “Pop,” she called again, a knot forming in her chest. She scooted around the boxes. She found him in his study, his spectacles perched on his nose, an open book in his hands. He was up and dressed, his wavy white hair combed. A good sign.

  “What are you reading?” She couldn’t blurt out what had happened. She’d have to ease into it so she wouldn’t upset him.

  “I was reading up on a case in Oregon. They had a similar situation with dead geese on Staats Lake in Keizer.”

  “That’s interesting,” she said. Outside the sirens grew louder and louder. She was running out of time. “Did they say what caused them to die?”

  “Inconclusive evidence.”

  “Did you tell Professor Coyle about it?”

  “No, no.”

  He remembered the young professor. Another good sign. “Wasn’t he supposed to take the birds to the lab last night?” she asked, pinching the bridge of her nose, hoping for a reasonable answer.

  “Yes. He didn’t?”

  “No, he didn’t.”

  “He must have. He isn’t here.” He looked around the room.

  “No, he’s not.” She rubbed her brow. The sirens were so loud she couldn’t hear herself think. “We need to go up to the house now,” she said, having to yell to be heard.

  “I was wondering if you would drive me to the university today,” he yelled back, and then paused. “Those sirens are awfully close,” he shouted. “I hope someone didn’t get hurt on the mountain road. You know how dangerous it can be.”

  “I know. But the accident didn’t happen on the mountain road,” she hollered back. The sirens stopped. Men’s voices were coming from the backyard. “It happened here, Pop,” she said in her normal voice. “Right outside.”

  “Oh.” His eyebrows rose.

  “Professor Coyle is hurt.” She took him by the elbow and guided him out of the study to the living room.

  “Is he going to be okay?” he asked.

  “I don’t know,” she said. “I don’t think so.”

  “He forgot the birds.” He motioned to the coolers and boxes in the foyer. “And the samples.”

  “I know.”

  “We have to get them to the lab.”

  “We will, I promise, but right now we have to go.”

  She led him outside. Charlie was talking with Ian. She was glad that it had been Charlie who had arrived first. But of course, he lived only ten minutes down the road. Two of his officers were with him. One of them held a roll of yellow crime scene tape.

  She met Charlie’s gaze. “I’m going to take Pop up to the main house if that’s okay.”

  He nodded.

  She looked at Ian. “Hank?”

  “As far as I know, he’s still sleeping.”

  She couldn’t see how with all the noise. “Come on, Pop. Let’s go check on Hank.” She slipped her arm through his as they headed toward the house. She needed to prepare him for one more surprise. “You’ll never guess who came to visit,” she said.

  * * *

  “Myna’s here,” Pop said as soon as he stepped into the kitchen. Myna was standing with her back to the garden window, her arm wrapped around Hank’s shoulder. They were both in their pajamas.

  “Hi, Pop,” Myna said, and rushed into his arms.

  “What’s going on?” Hank asked. “Aunt Myna wouldn’t let me go outside with Dad. Is it the birds?”

  “No, it’s not the birds.” Linnet put her hand on his shoulder. “The young professor from the university, the one who came to help with the geese?… He had an accident.”

  “Is he going to be okay?”

  Linnet felt both Myna and Pop’s eyes on her. She bent down so that she was eye level with Hank. “It’s nothing for you to worry about. Accidents happen. And Charlie’s going to take care of everything.” When she stood, she found Cora in the kitchen doorway, her apron knotted around her thick waist. The Rapps were behind her along with the newlyweds.

  “We heard the sirens. What are the police doing here?” Mr. Rapp asked. “We were afraid to go outside.”

  “It’s going to be okay,” she said, and opened her arms wide, herding them back into the dining room. “There was an accident. That’s all.” She motioned to Cora to continue with breakfast. Cora nodded and opened the refrigerator door, pulling out a pitcher of orange juice.

  While Linnet focused on her guests, she heard Myna say to Hank, “Come on, let’s get dressed. We’ll get something to eat when we come back down.”

  Linnet glanced at her sister; thankful she’d been there for Hank and had not let him outside where the professor’s body lay in the yard.

  * * *

  Charlie gathered everyone together in The Snow Goose and directed them to have a seat in the grand living room. Linnet sat on the big leather couch next to Ian. She gripped his hand. Her other hand rested on Hank’s leg. Myna sat on the other side of Hank, hugging one of the throw pillows to her chest. Pop sat next to Myna. “Myna’s home,” he’d said repeatedly for the last hour.

  The Rapps were seated in the two armchairs across from them. The newlyweds were wrapped around each other on the love seat. Cora slouched in one of the chairs they’d pulled from the dining room table.

  Charlie was about to speak when one of his men called him back outside. “Stay put,” he said in a tone Linnet recognized as his cop voice. There had been times when he’d answered a call on police matters in their presence, and his words came out crisper, sharper, more commanding.

  They waited in silence for Charlie to come back. Linnet resisted the urge to open the heavy draperies to let the sunlight in. The room was dark, but she didn’t want Hank to see where the police had blocked off their yard with yellow crime scene tape. Poor Professor Coyle’s body was still out there while Charlie’s men processed the scene.

  After a few more minutes of uncomfortable quiet, Charlie returned. “We’re treating it like a crime scene,” he said, “until we can figure out what happened here.”

  “So it is possible he could’ve had a heart attack or something?” Ian asked.

  “Or it’s possible he might’ve slipped and fallen,” Linnet said.

  Charlie pinned his gaze on her. “What makes you think that?”

  “I don’t know.” She just said it, trying to come up with something, anything to reason away a deeper fear that had started niggling away at her ever since she’d stepped into her father’s study. “The yard is always a little damp and muddy this time of year. And we had a bad thunderstorm the other night.”

  Charlie nodded. “I’m not ruling anything out at this point.”

  Hank’s stomach rumbled. He’d barely touched his eggs.

  “We’ll get you something to eat soon,” she said, reassuring him this would all be over shortly.

  Charlie asked each one of them questions about their activities in the last twenty-four hours. The Rapps confirmed they’d gone out for the evening, supplying the name of the restaurant in town. The newlyweds admitted to never leaving their room. Cora was home with her family all evening.

  “Why are you treating us like suspects?” Linnet asked Charlie. “It has to be some kind of accident.”

  But Charlie ignored her and kept going down the line with his questions, everyone stating they hadn’t left their rooms after going to bed. He stopped his interrogation when he came to Pop.
He pulled another chair from the dining room table and set it next to him at the end of the couch.

  “What about you, Doc?” he asked in a careful voice. “When was the last time you saw Professor Coyle?”

  “Well, I don’t know,” Pop said.

  “Think, Pop,” Linnet said. Her heart thrummed. “It’s important.”

  “I don’t know. I don’t remember.” He looked at Linnet, asking for her help, but she couldn’t give it to him. Not this time.

  “Tell him what you do remember,” she said.

  “I don’t remember what time it was, but I remember getting ready for bed, brushing my teeth, putting my pajamas on.” He kept looking to Linnet, double checking he was giving the correct answer. “Oh, I took my slippers off and put them next to the bed like you’re always telling me to do.” He looked pleased with himself for remembering the last part.

  “Okay, Doc,” Charlie said, as patient as ever, but Linnet could see the frustration on the chief’s face.

  “That’s good, Pop. But what time did you last see Professor Coyle? I think that’s what Charlie is asking,” Linnet said in her most patient voice.

  “Yes, Professor Coyle. He came from the university about the dead geese.”

  “That’s right, he did,” Charlie said. “Do you recall the last time you spoke with him?”

  Pop shook his head, puckering his face as though he were trying really hard to remember. “No, I don’t,” he said, looking disappointed with himself. “I don’t remember.”

  “Why does it matter?” Myna asked, jumping in suddenly. “He said he can’t remember right this minute, but he’ll remember eventually. Won’t you, Pop?”

  “I don’t know,” he said.

  Linnet could see the concern on Myna’s face. She hadn’t a clue about Pop’s steady decline, about the things he remembered and the things he didn’t. Maybe Ian had been right and Linnet should’ve warned her, said something about the unraveling of his memory, how it had been rapidly progressing in recent months.

  “Okay, Doc,” Charlie said. “You can let me know later.” He turned his attention to Linnet’s guests. She’d become so focused on her own family the last few minutes, she’d almost forgotten they were there.