What She Left (Martina Monroe Book 1) Read online

  As I drove past houses on stilts and roads that seemed to lead to nowhere, I turned along a bend in the road and continued toward the water. I saw the sign and my heart raced. It had been painted and looked new, but it was the same as it ever was, The Boathouse Bar and Grill. It was the place my best friend and our dates went to before our senior prom.

  We decided we were grown-ups, all of us destined to leave the island and move on to more exciting places. We were dressed up and had the time of our lives eating shrimp cocktail and drinking Shirley Temples, secretly spiked with vodka that Donna’s boyfriend had swiped from his parent’s liquor cabinet. I wished that’s where the memories of The Boathouse Bar and Grill ended, but it wasn’t. My thoughts drifted to that last night. More Shirley Temples spiked with vodka. More - Dammit.

  I slammed on my breaks, nearly blowing through a stop sign. I shook my head and tried to forget the past as I continued down to Marina Road, making a right on Conrad Court. My breath seized as I approached Donna’s old house, which sat next to Kennedy’s parents’ home. I didn’t know if Donna’s family still owned it or if they’d sold it. I hadn’t reached out to them in years. It was too painful. Like me, they didn’t think Donna had run away.

  I rolled past and pulled into the dirt driveway in front of the Gilmore’s residence. I parked the car and turned off the engine. I saw another car, presumably Kennedy’s, and stepped out of my vehicle and headed toward the stairs. I climbed up the two flights to the front door and knocked, glancing around as I waited for the door to open. From where I stood, I could see the bay and boats docked in front of the neighboring houses. An eeriness washed over me. It was surreal. I’d spent so much of my teen years out on the back porch with Donna or walking the levee down to the marina store to buy soda and candy. This was where I’d spent most of my time. It had been my escape from the trailer park.

  The door swished open and Kennedy flashed a nervous smile. “Martina, you made it.”

  She threw her hands up. “Of course, you made it. You grew up here. But you found it okay?”

  “Yep, I remembered the way.”

  “Great. Come on in.”

  I stepped inside. As I imagined, there were floor-to-ceiling windows on the front of the house with views of the choppy blue water and green hills in the distance. I stepped into the living room.

  Kennedy chewed her lower lip.

  “What is it?” I asked.

  “Seeing you yesterday, made me think of Donna. Did you ever hear from her again? We weren’t good friends in our later years but we were friends as kids and I know they thought she ran away, but…”

  “I don’t think she ran away. And no.” My gut clenched. “I never heard from her again.”

  “If it’s worth anything I don’t think so either.”

  I cocked my head. “Do you have any specific reason to believe that she didn’t leave on her own?”

  “Well, like I told the police, that night I saw someone out on the levee with her. I couldn’t make out their face. They were wearing a hoodie and sunglasses at night. It seemed off.”

  What? Back then, the police wouldn’t tell me anything and I hadn’t the inclination to do my own investigation. I was eighteen years old and when they wouldn’t help me find her - insisting she was a runaway - I was the one to do the running and joined the army. This new information was interesting and could help find out what happened to her. For now, I’d file this away, because right now I needed to find baby Amelia.

  “It’s been my experience that the police aren’t always the best at getting the job done. Hence, my line of work. Speaking of…” I was curious to know if Kennedy knew anything else that could help find Donna, but first things first.

  Kennedy took the hint. “Right. So where do we start? Should I give you a tour of the house and show you where all Mom’s things are?”

  “Sounds like a great plan. Show me the way.”

  She led me on the tour of the house and its four bedrooms. One was obviously her childhood room that hadn’t been redecorated. The walls were a dark shade of purple. A twin-size bed was situated in the corner with a lavender-colored comforter embroidered with flowers. A matching white dresser and vanity lined the walls, along with concert posters and a bulletin board with photos pinned to it.

  The last bedroom she led me into was bigger than the others and was configured in an L-shape, wrapping back around to the front of the house. Sliding glass doors and a window displayed bay views. Kennedy stopped and said, “This is Mom and Dad’s room. Although, Dad hasn’t been able to sleep in here since she died. I can’t say I blame him. This is the room where I was boxing things up and came across the photo. I was too freaked out by Dad’s reaction to continue looking through the boxes. Mom never told me where in Pennsylvania she was from, she usually waved it off by saying I’d never heard of the small town. Which, by the way, we only have a few hours. My dad is at the doctor’s office in Grapton Hill. I didn’t tell him I’d hired a PI since asking about the photo had upset him so much. I prefer he didn’t know for the time being.”

  “Understood.” The room was tidy, aside from the stacks of boxes. I walked over to the dresser, surveying the framed photographs of various sizes and shapes. There were plenty of what I presumed was a young Kennedy and family photos of the three Gilmores. I picked up a small photo of a young man in a dark suit. “Is this your Dad?”

  “Yep.”

  “How did you say he and your mother met?”

  “Mom was working at a diner that dad would visit frequently. They both said it was love at first sight.”

  “That sounds wonderful.” I continued studying the photographs. The faces wore smiles most of the time. “Is it okay if I look in the drawers?”

  “Yes, of course. Can I get you anything? Water, tea, or coffee?”

  “Coffee would be great, thank you.”

  Kennedy gave a quick nod and headed out of the room. I slid open the first drawer, hoping to not be too terrified by any of the contents. People had a tendency to hide secret or valuable items in underwear drawers. I carefully surveyed the first drawer’s contents. Nothing out of the ordinary. There was nothing unusual in the next two drawers either. One contained tanks, T-shirts, and long-sleeve shirts, and the other, trousers and athletic wear. I knelt down to go through the bottom drawers and continued to search the rest of the drawers, which appeared to be mostly Mr. Gilmore’s things.

  Empty-handed, I headed over to the closet and rifled through the hanging items, some in plastic from the dry cleaner and even a dress with tags still attached that would never be worn by Mrs. Gilmore. I squatted down to look for any clues at the bottom of the closet. I tapped the spotless floor, hoping for a secret hiding spot. No dice.

  I stood up and placed my hands on my hips and glanced at the top shelf that held shoe boxes and a collection of handbags. There was nothing that appeared to be a keepsake box or anything that may provide a clue. I pulled down each item, studying the inside of each purse and box. What I found was that Charlotte Gilmore was tidy - a woman who didn’t leave old receipts or lip gloss in her purse when she wasn’t using it - like I did.

  Who was Charlotte Gilmore? All I could tell was that she was a well put together woman, a pillar of the community, and according to Kennedy, an exceptional mother. She probably never left Kennedy at home with the nanny all day long and sometimes all night, working a dangerous job. Or forget to buy Valentine’s Day cards. Shoot, she probably made hand-crafted cards each holiday. I wondered if I’d ever measure up to such a good mother.

  Kennedy entered, handing me a cup of steaming coffee. “Thank you.” I took a sip. It was smooth and rich.

  “Sorry it took so long; I had to brew a fresh pot. Find anything?”

  “I didn’t see anything in the drawers or in the closet. I haven’t started searching in the boxes. Where did they come from?”

  “I brought them up from storage, downstairs. I brought up all the ones labeled as hers. There may be a few more down the
re, near the laundry.”

  “All right, let’s start looking through these boxes.”

  A while later, I closed up the lid on the last box in the room. There was nothing that could tie Charlotte to her past before she’d met Theodore Gilmore. The photograph was literally the only thing that appeared to have existed before Charlotte had married her husband. No childhood mementos or photographs of her family, which was odd considering Kennedy had said they died in a fire. Perhaps all the family photos went up in flames as well? It was as if Charlotte Gilmore didn’t exist before her time in California. The only evidence that she did was the picture of her and Amelia.

  “Is it okay with you if we head downstairs now?”

  “Sure, I’ll lead the way.”

  We descended the wooden steps until we reached a door halfway down the stairs. We entered, passing laundry machines on the left and a bedroom with bunk beds. A full bathroom was situated on the right. In the center of the space was a living area with a TV, sofa, and video game consoles. A fun place for kids or kids-at-heart to play. “Did you hang out down here a lot when you were younger?” I asked.

  “Oh yeah, all the time. This was like my sanctuary, where me and my friends would hang out. I begged my mom to let me live down here, but she refused saying that there wasn’t any heating or air conditioning.”

  “Sounds nice.” I continued to one of the storage closets and opened it. I found a set of plastic bins, one on each of the shelves. I searched through each one. The last one was full of what looked like handmade quilts. “Did your mom make these?”

  Kennedy stepped closer and ran her fingers across the top quilt. “Yes, she was quite crafty.” She began to tear up.

  I placed my hand on her shoulder to comfort her. “Are you all right?”

  “Yes, I’ll be fine. I forgot these were here. I have so many memories of Mom with all the fabric laid out on the table, cutting out squares and working away at the sewing machine. She spent hours and hours creating quilts for friends and family.”

  “Your mother sounds like she was an amazing woman, mother, and wife.”

  “That she was. There are people coming from all over the Bay Area to attend her memorial on Saturday. She touched so many lives. She was a volunteer at the hospital and at the school. She had a lot of friends.”

  “That’s so nice.”

  “You know, maybe you should come to the memorial. Who knows, maybe someone will know something. I can tell Dad you’re just a friend of mine or that you’re from one of the places she volunteered at. He could never keep track of all of them anyhow. What do you think? Can you make it?”

  Not a bad idea. Who knows, maybe if somebody from her past read about her death in the newspaper, they would attend the service to pay their respects. Those people may have some useful information. Saturday? Did Zoey have a Brownie meeting? “What time is memorial?”

  “It’s at one o’clock.”

  I’ll have to call Claire to see if she can drop Zoey off at the meeting. “I’ll be there.”

  I clicked the lid on the bin of quilts and pushed it back on the shelf. It got caught on something halfway back, and the sound of a pebble dropping caught my attention. I glanced down at the ground. Nothing appeared to have dropped. I pulled out the bin and heard the rattle once more. I set it on the ground and removed the quilts. At the bottom of the box was a ring. I picked it up and studied the engravings. It was a class ring. Why would it be in a storage bin full of quilts? I called out to Kennedy. “Hey, have you seen this before?” I knew it wasn’t hers since we’d graduated from the same high school.

  Kennedy scurried back over and I handed the ring to her. It contained a mother-of-pearl rectangle stone with a ‘C’ inlaid in gold. She studied it before looking up at me. “No. I don’t know what the ‘C’ could stand for, but the year 1966 is about right for when my mom would have graduated from high school. It could have been Mom’s.”

  “Mind if I take it with me? Maybe I can find out what school it’s from.”

  Kennedy’s eyes brightened. “A clue! Maybe it will be the key to finding out who baby Amelia is.”

  “It’s very possible.” I prayed it would, because we had little else.

  “Great. Thank you, Martina.”

  After saying our goodbyes, I jumped back in my car and hit the road. For a moment, I had forgotten where I was. I couldn’t wait to get off this damn island.

  6

  Martina

  I drove past the Boathouse Bar and Grill and my heart clenched. I needed to have a clear head. I needed to focus on finding Amelia and learning more about Charlotte’s past. I continued driving, and thought, only a few more minutes and I’ll be out of here. A thumping sound and wobble of the wheel threw me out of my thoughts. “You’ve gotta be kidding me,” I mumbled. I pulled the car over to the side of the road next to the small lot across from the town market.

  I stepped out of the car, slamming the door behind me and headed to the rear right of the vehicle and knelt down. Sure enough, I had a flat tire. I didn’t see any obvious issues like a nail or a gash, just a flat.

  I stood up and went around to the trunk and pulled out the jack, set it in on the ground and then retrieved the spare. Thank goodness I’d opted for the full size tire and not the little dinky one. I leaned the spare against the back of the car and went to work on replacing the damaged tire. I was on the last turn of the tire iron, securing the bolt, when I heard footsteps on the gravel. I finished the turn and stood up.

  “Martina Koltz, is that you?”

  “Dave?”

  He grinned, showing off his dimples, like he’d always done back in high school. He was a year older and Donna’s brother. All the girls had crushes on him, even me, for a time. I would bet money he was married now with kids - a picket fence - the whole nine yards. He approached for a hug, and we embraced. He shook his head, keeping that killer smile on full display. “My gosh, you look exactly the same.”

  “You too. You look great. How are things?”

  “Great. I’m still on the island.” He lifted his hand, showing off a silver-toned wedding band. “Been married five years, and my wife and I just had our second baby. It’s been an exciting time.” He said with a chuckle. “What are you doing back here, visiting your mom?”

  A stab of guilt shot through me. “No, I’m working. After the Army, I became a private investigator. I’m here working a case.”

  “No kidding.” He glanced at my ring finger. “You’re married? Have any kids?”

  I glanced down at the gold and diamond band on my finger. It had never occurred to me to take it off. “My daughter, Zoey, is almost eight. My husband passed almost two years ago now.”

  He put his hand to his chest. “I’m so sorry.”

  “Thank you.” Neither of us were talking about the elephant in the room, or rather, on the island. I didn’t need to ask him if he’d heard from Donna. She had been missing for thirteen years. I knew the likelihood of her still being alive was slim to none. Hoping she was alive was a pipe dream. The awkward silence remained. “How is your family?” I asked.

  “They’re surviving. Nothing has quite been the same since Donna disappeared and now with this detective reopening the case it’s brought it all up again.”

  Of course they weren’t the same. I had worked enough missing persons cases to know how such an event could affect the family. Not knowing if their daughter or sister was alive or dead. If they were being held captive or if she had simply run away and was now happily sipping margaritas on the beach. Not knowing was worse than knowing. Wait, what did he just say? “I hadn’t heard that they were reopening the case.”

  “Yep, a detective came by my parent’s house last week. I’m surprised he hasn’t contacted you yet.”

  So was I. As far as I knew, I was the last person to see her before she disappeared. Strike that. If what Kennedy said was correct, I was the second to last person. “Do you know the name of the detective?”

  “Not of
f the top of my head. He’s with the Sheriff’s department, I know that. My parents told me about it. They’re pretty shook up but happy there is someone still looking for her. They’ve never given up hope that she’s alive.”

  In that moment I think my body was comprised of 80% guilt and the rest was bones, tissues, blood, and water. The guilt for not visiting my family. The guilt over Donna’s disappearance. I needed to get off this island.

  “I hope they find her. It was good seeing you, but I really gotta get back to the city.”

  “Good to see you, too. Take care, Martina.”

  “You too.” I placed my tools in the trunk, shut it, and hurried back into my driver’s seat. I sucked in my breath and made my break for it.

  As I drove over the bridge, my nerves were rattled, and my mind drifted into a fog. I hadn’t thought too much about what it would be like to return to Stone Island. I just knew that I shouldn’t. Now I knew what it was like and I wished I didn’t. It was as if I was eighteen again and my world was crumbling out of my control. It was clear what I needed to do. I took one hand off the steering wheel, grabbed a stick of gum from my bag and popped it in my mouth. Chewing furiously, I clicked the button on the steering wheel and made my command, “Call Rocco, mobile.”

  7

  Martina

  I sat in my seat and swirled my coffee, waiting for Rocco to arrive. Like the coffee, my mind and my thoughts were spiraling. It wasn’t a good place to be. As much as I had protested to Rocco that we didn’t need to meet in person, I’m thankful he had insisted. I really needed his wisdom and reason right now. The jingle of the bell at the coffee shop door garnered my attention. I glanced to the left and I saw the imposing figure. Donned in a black leather jacket with tattoos on his neck and salt and pepper hair pulled back into a ponytail, Rocco entered wearing a sheepish grin. I lifted my hand and waved. He strutted over. “How you holding up, Martina?”