The Father's Tale (A Disappearance Mystery Thriller Book 6) Read online

  Melody looks around and takes in the sights she had missed while she was gone. It’s amazing how quickly you can get used to a new place, she ponders. In the short month or so she has worked at Deacon mansion, the hollow hallways have been filled with laughter and color as Rebecca blossoms out of her shell more.

  Lunchtimes turned from gloom to a time of joyful storytelling as Tam revealed fascinating tales of Rebecca’s dad and his brothers growing up at Deacon mansion. Each day came with its own story. It was fun and it helped Rebecca see that she doesn’t have to worry about forgetting her father – Tam will quickly refresh her memory with a new story.

  Something catches her eye. It’s a set of decorative plates. The Middle Eastern plates. From the moment she first laid eyes on them, she knew they were familiar, too familiar, like something her father would collect. She wonders if they belonged to her father. After all, none of the Deacon boys have been to the Middle East. If they do belong to my father, she concedes, then: Not only did Will steal my father’s watch and pass it off as his own, he had the audacity to display ancient plates that my father collected in the Middle East in his kitchen and pass them off as his own.

  The idea of Will having such a lack of respect for her father disgusts her. But why? She is eager to know from the horse’s mouth what really happened.

  If only I knew my father was missing earlier, I would have come sooner, maybe found him alive and helped him escape. The regrets of shoulda-coulda flood in, but Melody resists the temptation to go down that rabbit trail. There is no use living in the past, she tells herself, you can only do something about the present. And do something she will.

  Realizing that she has yet to mourn her father’s death, she reminds herself, when all this is over, I need to take time to grieve. They may not have been as close as she would like, but this trip to Scotland has helped Melody see that she is more like her father than she first realized.

  But first, she needs to find out what she came here for. She needs to get to Will.

  Next, she asks, “What do you think he’s doing down in that basement?” Melody is curious to find out why Will has been spending so much time down there. She wants to confront him, but she can’t if he is spending all his time in the basement.

  “I don’t know.” Max doesn’t seem too bothered by her question.

  On the other hand, Melody’s wheels are turning, coming up with ideas of how she can get to Will. When she arrived this morning, she asked Tam where Will was and he told her the basement, but specifically asked her not to go down there per Mr. Will’s instruction. He did not want to be disturbed in there and she and Rebecca were strictly forbidden to go in. It only piqued Melody’s interest.

  Looking out the window distantly, Max continues, “Will won’t say. But it can’t be good. Nothing ever is when it comes to my brother.”

  On this point, Melody has to agree with Max. Will has shown her his true colors. She just wishes she had been privy to them sooner. It would have saved her much heartache.

  It was just two weeks ago that their relationship was blossoming. She didn’t expect it to happen, it just did. First, he came and saved her from Max making a pass at her in his drunken stupor. Max was inebriated to the point of being utterly reckless and falling on top of her; she thought he would have killed himself by alcohol poisoning, but his Scottish stomach proved capable of holding down a drink. Still, Will came just in time to save her. She longed for him to kiss her just then, but Morrison arrived to pick her up.

  Then days later, she had the opportunity to return the favor and save Will from impending doom when the stairs in the basement collapsed. It also gave them an opportunity to be alone; they were sitting in the hallway to the basement when he expressed his deep interest in her and gratitude for how she cares for Rebecca. Again, they came so close to kissing intimately when Rebecca came rushing in.

  She was frustrated at the time, hoping to advance their relationship, but just as well. She was saved from utter humiliation which would have been inevitable had they been more romantically involved.

  It was when she saw her father’s watch on Will’s arm that she knew he was hiding something important from her. She knew he was involved somehow, but to imagine that he was the one behind her father’s demise, that was debilitating to her.

  After a few moments of contemplation, she asks, “Did he suspect anything while I was gone?”

  “Who, my brother? No, I told him you were on a sabbatical just to buy some time while I thought of a good reason to explain you leaving.”

  “Good.” Melody walks over to the island, “What I need you to do now is relax, Max. If he suspects that I know then it’s game over.”

  “Fine. But you need to stick to your duties and none of that wandering around. You understand? You’re not safe anywhere.”

  Chapter 3

  Melody has been trying to talk to Will with no success. It’s as though he is intentionally avoiding her. On her day off – she sits in a corner, thoughtful, scribbling onto a piece of paper.

  Then Morrison in his khakis and maroon button-up shirt with the sleeves rolled back, adjusts his apron as he walks to check on her.

  “What’s on yer mind, hen?”

  “Ah,” she sighs, “anything and everything.”

  He chuckles, “Yer sound like us old geezers! You’re too young tae be sayin’ all that. Anything I can help ye with?”

  “Yes, actually there is.” She perks up immediately. “Can you drive me out near Deacon House?”

  “Wait isn’t taeday yer day off?” Morrison says, checking the calendar behind the pub cash drawer. “I can drive ye the morrow. It isnae a problem.”

  “Yes, but I need to go today.” It takes a little convincing, then he soon comes around and before long they’re on their way.

  It’s another unusually beautiful day at Talon’s Point. Again, the weather fails to warn Melody of the unknown horrors awaiting. She proceeds, even commenting on how the island is growing on her.

  On the way to the mansion, Morrison, being more perceptive than most, notes the urgency in her request and inquires, “Okay, so out with it. Why have you been acting strangely?” Melody knew this was coming. She could only dodge Morrison for a little while.

  She confides in him, “The truth is I have to leave soon.”

  “Well, I figured that oot, but what is going on Melody? You’ve been acting differently since ye came back.”

  Is it that obvious? She wonders. “There is something I need to do first before I leave, and you cannot say a word.”

  “Does it involve the Deacons?” Morrison’s voice is more drawn in and suspicious. He has spent the last month warning her about the Deacon family and he worries his warnings have fallen on deaf ears.

  “Yes.”

  “I see.” Morrison’s voice drowns in his disappointment. Then he says, “I’ve warned you about the dangers associated with that family already. Are you sure you want to go down the path you’re taking?”

  Ironically, she came in search of a father who she barely knew and found in Morrison someone who is more of a father-figure to her than her own father was. He is aware of her character and needs, he advises her when she needs wisdom – all things she hoped her father would do.

  “I need to do this.”

  That’s all she has to say, and Morrison understands. She can tell he is troubled by her decision, but like any good father, Morrison knows there is a time to speak and a time to stand aside and let someone choose the path they feel is best. “Just be careful.”

  Melody nods her head, turning to the sea as they cross the narrow road along the cliff. The water flows in short waves and beats against the wall of the cliff. Melody feels like the water. She is trying to get past a barrier, and she is not sure why she can’t push past it. She has spent a whole month trying to figure out what is stopping her from learning what happened to her father, but somehow, she thinks she will find out today.

  To her other side, they pass the
trees swaying amicably with the wind. They neither fight nor are disturbed. Effortlessly, they flow back and forth. Melody’s time at Talon’s has not been as smooth. She has fought the elements, the townspeople, the cultural differences and her own need for love, comfort and belonging to get where she is; she has fought her way through each day to get to this hilltop where it will all commence.

  They’re close. By now, she is seeing a trend. First Neil, then Emma, then Max, and now Morrison – all have warned her to be careful.

  Like a dark cloud setting on a pretty, blue sky, she feels a heavy pit settle in her stomach, like something more is about to happen today. She cannot shake it, but she has been in enough trouble on this trip to know that she needs to pay attention to it, and the counsel she has received. With a little more trepidation than she began with that morning, she continues her journey.

  Her archeology digs have taught her that there is a need for a fear that keeps you alive. She says a short prayer in her heart. And trusts God to guide her through this experience.

  Melody is not afraid, but she is cautious. There is still within her a thrilling confidence that she is making the right decision, facing her circumstances head on.

  “STOP the car!” She shouts abruptly. Morrison screeches to a halt, his little Datsun croaking in response to her sudden exclamation. She was deep in thought that she almost missed her stopping point.

  Morrison squeezes her hand and bids her well. It is Melody now who must finish the journey alone.

  Half a mile out from the mansion, she leaves the car and continues up the hill on foot. Morrison quietly turns around, careful to not draw attention to her, then he returns to the inn.

  Her new, deep, olive green hiking pants give her the slack she needs to take quick strides up the hill. According to her plan that she scribbled down while at the inn, she has a few minutes to make it to the top of the hill.

  She stays low to the ground, opting to stay on the grass and maneuver her way around the bushes and thistles. Thanks to Tam’s groundskeeping skills, the grass is low and soft. He must have just cut it a day or two ago, she reckons.

  “This is it,” she whispers under her breath. “Will is finally going to own up to his actions.” Melody chose today because Tam will be away from the Deacon mansion grounds. On his day off he goes into town for a couple drams of Glen Talon whiskey. On their way here, her and Morrison passed him in his orange tweed overalls and boots, walking to the Howling Dog Inn.

  She sneaks in through the gate, which is not locked until evening. Then, she walks around the back of the mansion towards the greenhouse entrance, avoiding being seen by crawling under windows.

  Nestled between the back wall that stretches for miles around the property and the mansion itself, she parts ways with the wall and turns towards the back entryway.

  There is a fountain at the center of the courtyard, statuesquely spraying water to create a calm ambience in the back garden. The fountain is the one witness to what is about to commence. It neither warns the Deacons nor Melody of what lays ahead.

  She swings through the glass door into the greenhouse. Just as she thought, it is empty. Quietly, she gently pulls the French door into the house, carefully shutting it without making a sound.

  This is the most dangerous part. If anyone walks past the hallway, her ploy will have come to nothing. Tip-toeing to the door just a few steps from the greenhouse, she holds her breath as she slides the door open, slowly, as if her breath might awaken the house. Melody is leaving no part of her plan to chance.

  Almost there, she thinks, her heart is pounding and now the worst part is over. She is standing in the basement hallway.

  Good, no one saw me. Not wasting a second, she presses forward to the stairs that Will restored after his fall. Now, they are sturdy and the basement itself is transformed. The concrete floor is emptied of all the rubble, all that’s left to add is maybe wood flooring, furniture and to seal up the exposed electrical wires behind an open patch in the wall.

  It hardly looks like a place where someone would want to spend their entire day. There is no bathroom or anywhere to store food. What did Will do down here?

  Wait, that wasn’t there before, she recognizes. To her surprise, a room in the basement is almost finished up ahead. It is just missing paint and maybe a window or two. No wonder Will was not around. He must have sacrificed sleep, building this room in the basement, she realizes. There is a lamp sitting to the side of the room, but the room has no windows.

  This must be where he is. Her heart is still pounding, more heavily now. Her breathing is audible. Melody has wondered how she will react when she confronts her father’s killer, and now she is about to find out.

  The adrenaline rush in her body usurps the blood from her fingertips. They are white and cold, but part of her is aching inside because she is about to close a complex chapter of her life. Hair raises on her arms involuntarily. In just a few steps, Melody will face the man who she almost fell for, who killed the father that she longed to know better yet was denied the opportunity.

  Now, she knows what the pit in her stomach was: anger, frustration and guilt. What commenced as anger and frustration, quickly dissolves to sadness.

  She walks around the concrete wall of the room to the door. There is a small glass window on the door like what you might pass a parcel through.

  Melody looks through the window and inside it, is her father.

  “Dad!” She shouts, scrambling with the door. It’s locked. He is sitting on the floor, no drinking water, no food in sight. A small toilet bowl hangs from the corner of the room with a sink and roll of toilet paper. He looks feeble and pale. Her father has not looked this weak and malnourished before. “Dad, it’s me! Melody!”

  He looks up from inside, taking effort to get his head up. Immediately, his face brightens up with a smile and he pulls himself up and walks to the door.

  “Are you okay?” She can see his eyes have lost their spark, probably from weeks of torture and imprisonment. Again, she jiggles the doorknob to no avail. Tears are streaming down his eyes and hers.

  He nods his head, to say yes. His body is frail. She does not see the strong man she looked up to as a child, she sees a feeble older man. But there is yet, she hopes, a fight to live still in him. It pains Melody that he is locked behind the door. She wants to dote on him and restore him to health, but she can’t. He tries to speak, then he signals, “key,” as he also mouths it and feebly points at the lock.

  “Sit tight Dad, I’m going to get help now.”

  Melody rushes out of the room, almost flying up the staircase and onto the main floor. She hasn’t called her father “Dad” in years, but it seemed to fit today.

  She is almost out of breath when she shouts, “Max! Max!”

  “I’m almost done…” She hears mumbling from the sitting room. It’s the voice of a groggy Max.

  “Max! Help! My Dad! He is in the basement!” Melody catches herself after she has already said it, she meant to say, “Mr. Sanders.” Right now, she doesn’t care. She has found her father and getting him safely out of there is what matters most.

  When she shouted his name, Max was completely zonked out, but she startled him out of a nap. Melody comes around the corner, she sees that he is lying on the couch, eyes still closed. Again, she shouts his name and this time he gets up.

  Pulling his shirt down and wiping drool off the side of his mouth, Max ruffles his hair to look like he at least put some effort in looking presentable. Next, he follows Melody to the basement.

  Glancing back while running, Melody asks, “Do you have a key?”

  “Yes.”

  “Good. Is Will here?” She wants to be cautious about getting her father out. The less trouble they meet when they make their escape, the better. If her father was in good health she wouldn’t worry, but his frail frame really worries Melody.

  Max takes a while to answer her. He’s still waking up from his nap. “No, he took Rebecca out just before
I rested my eyes.”

  “Okay. We’ll have to move quickly.” She says skipping stairs as she rushes down the basement. “I can’t believe it Max. All this time, he’s been in here!”

  “Yeah! It’s crazy. How could he?”

  They run around the corner and Melody announces the news as she requests the key from Max. Her Dad returns to the door. “Dad, I’ve got help, Max is going to get you out!” She says, turning away from the door.

  But when Melody’s father sees Max, he yells “Murderer!”

  Chapter 4

  Why didn’t I trust my instinct? She thinks, I knew something wasn’t right about Max, but it’s too late now.