well, scribbling on a yellow legal pad, reading glasses perched on the end of her nose. Connie stood at the layout table at the back of the pasteup room, visible through the wide doorway. She was laying out ads, a ruler and X-Acto knife protruding through the fingers of her left hand as her right sought the perfect placement. Marya could hear the faint soul music that Wallace and Craig often played.
Looking to the front, she saw Carol dutifully working on some filing at the reception desk. Over to her left Ed was studying his computer screen, peering like an owl through his glasses, and Emily was filing her nails with keen attention as she talked on her phone. Everything seemed so normal. Yet someone—one of these people, the ones with access to Denton’s computer—had taken a folder and then tried to sabotage the paper by deleting the A-front files. A bad feeling began to churn in the back of Marya’s mind.
Chapter Twenty-One
On Thursday, Marya was able to take a day off from the
Schuyler Times
, a rare opportunity given that Denton was still missing. Ed had reported his disappearance to the sheriff’s office the previous morning and the day had been a tedious waiting one, full of meetings and questions as the police investigated.
Wanting to use this special day well and seriously needing a nature break, Marya made plans to explore the land adjacent to her small cottage. Household chores, laundry, weeding the flower gardens and mowing the small patch of grass took longer than expected so she got a late start. After tucking a water bottle and snacks into a small pack, she donned hiking boots and set off.
The weather was delightful. At eighty-five degrees, it was just hot enough without being too hot. The low sun rested heavy on her face as she blazed a trail through young pine trees. She headed into the wooded area, avoiding the beach where she might encounter Dorry. Dorry’s house was east of the wooded area, and she had no desire to let an impromptu sparring match with her dampen the peace and contentment of the day.
The woods were surprisingly cool due to the shading of the interlaced tree branches overhead, and she found herself shivering in her thin T-shirt and shorts. Mosquitoes buzzed around her head and a few biting flies nipped at her knees. Nevertheless she was happy, her legs falling easily into the pumping rhythm of the hike, her breath rate increasing. Squirrels scampered at her approach, and small tribes of nut-brown quail made frantic escapes as she passed. She found her footsteps following the natural curve of the land as it sloped upward.
At one point she had a wonderful view of the rental cottage with the mighty surging sea as a backdrop. She admired the neat square of lawn over which she had labored just an hour before, proud of the result. The many small, bordered flower gardens formed fascinating geometric patterns from this vantage, and she was sure that they were much more attractive without the choking green of the weeds she had removed earlier that day.
Marya plowed deeper into the forested acreage, eventually emerging into a natural clearing. The warm sun kissed her in greeting and she strode the perimeter of the small sandy lot. White cotton clouds passed overhead and she stood, head thrown back, feeling vertigo as earth and sky rubbed against one another. Dropping her gaze, she spied a patch of blue through the trees on her right and moved forward. The blue was the ocean and she could see a house. Master Wood’s house.
Larger than she remembered, it was a lovely home when framed against the ocean, with shutters and trim of deep blue. The siding was a weathered white and the sloping driveway, made of creamy crushed stone, blended in well as it framed the property. The house settled onto a thick, half-moon shaped peninsula of rock which jutted out into the water so its foundation was regularly caressed by frothy waves. The backyard sloped down to a dock and a landing where a small
Looking to the front, she saw Carol dutifully working on some filing at the reception desk. Over to her left Ed was studying his computer screen, peering like an owl through his glasses, and Emily was filing her nails with keen attention as she talked on her phone. Everything seemed so normal. Yet someone—one of these people, the ones with access to Denton’s computer—had taken a folder and then tried to sabotage the paper by deleting the A-front files. A bad feeling began to churn in the back of Marya’s mind.
Chapter Twenty-One
On Thursday, Marya was able to take a day off from the
Schuyler Times
, a rare opportunity given that Denton was still missing. Ed had reported his disappearance to the sheriff’s office the previous morning and the day had been a tedious waiting one, full of meetings and questions as the police investigated.
Wanting to use this special day well and seriously needing a nature break, Marya made plans to explore the land adjacent to her small cottage. Household chores, laundry, weeding the flower gardens and mowing the small patch of grass took longer than expected so she got a late start. After tucking a water bottle and snacks into a small pack, she donned hiking boots and set off.
The weather was delightful. At eighty-five degrees, it was just hot enough without being too hot. The low sun rested heavy on her face as she blazed a trail through young pine trees. She headed into the wooded area, avoiding the beach where she might encounter Dorry. Dorry’s house was east of the wooded area, and she had no desire to let an impromptu sparring match with her dampen the peace and contentment of the day.
The woods were surprisingly cool due to the shading of the interlaced tree branches overhead, and she found herself shivering in her thin T-shirt and shorts. Mosquitoes buzzed around her head and a few biting flies nipped at her knees. Nevertheless she was happy, her legs falling easily into the pumping rhythm of the hike, her breath rate increasing. Squirrels scampered at her approach, and small tribes of nut-brown quail made frantic escapes as she passed. She found her footsteps following the natural curve of the land as it sloped upward.
At one point she had a wonderful view of the rental cottage with the mighty surging sea as a backdrop. She admired the neat square of lawn over which she had labored just an hour before, proud of the result. The many small, bordered flower gardens formed fascinating geometric patterns from this vantage, and she was sure that they were much more attractive without the choking green of the weeds she had removed earlier that day.
Marya plowed deeper into the forested acreage, eventually emerging into a natural clearing. The warm sun kissed her in greeting and she strode the perimeter of the small sandy lot. White cotton clouds passed overhead and she stood, head thrown back, feeling vertigo as earth and sky rubbed against one another. Dropping her gaze, she spied a patch of blue through the trees on her right and moved forward. The blue was the ocean and she could see a house. Master Wood’s house.
Larger than she remembered, it was a lovely home when framed against the ocean, with shutters and trim of deep blue. The siding was a weathered white and the sloping driveway, made of creamy crushed stone, blended in well as it framed the property. The house settled onto a thick, half-moon shaped peninsula of rock which jutted out into the water so its foundation was regularly caressed by frothy waves. The backyard sloped down to a dock and a landing where a small
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