My weariness fell away as my mind zipped back and forth to the places listed like a motorist tracing a complicated route on a map. “These are Marlette’s hiding spots! Luella must have followed him in order to find them. How else could she know all of these specific locations? She probably checked them regularly to make sure he didn’t leave any hidden clues that would give away her real identity.” I paused briefly as a sense of relief flowed through me that Luella hadn’t known about the secluded meadow in the woods. “People told me they’d seen Marlette hiding things in the birdhouses at the park. I found an old article in one of the barn birdhouses.” I ran my fingers through my hair. “And Makayla removed an old photo from the brick wall behind the bookstore.”
“I’d like to see those.” Sean rubbed his chin pensively. “So Marlette might have left some kind of clue in the live oak at the center of town?”
“Maybe.” I grabbed my purse. “I think we need to find out.”
“Whoa! I’ve got to get back to the station and process all these interviews and fingerprints. And you”—he touched my arm—“need to get home. I’ll send an officer to investigate the tree when we’re done here.”
I covered his hand with mine. “Please, Sean. This will only take a few minutes.”
After a long pause, he nodded. I followed him out of the office and watched him exchange a few words with Officer Burke. She glanced at her watch and then got into the cruiser but didn’t start the engine.
Sean and I started up High Street toward the live oak tree. I had a very strong feeling that we would find something important there.
What if, in its hollow, Marlette had hidden a copy of his elusive query letter? Even though I’d never laid eyes on it, that letter forever altered my first day of work at Novel Idea and was still affecting my daily existence.
I felt that somehow, discovering Marlette’s letter would finally put to end the unanswered questions and horrible violence that had infected the literary agency like a fast-moving and deadly virus.
Chapter 13
THE LIVE OAK WAS A MAGNIFICENT, IF SLIGHTLY FRIGHTENING, tree. It towered above the tight beds of flowering vinca and a neat square of wrought iron park benches, its ancient branches hanging low to the ground, grown too heavy to remain in the air any longer. The waning light filtered through the clusters of elongated branches, painting the grass with crooked shadows.
It was probably my imagination, but in the silence between night and day I felt as though I’d stepped back in time. With most of the town’s businesses closed, the square and its environs were deserted and it was all too easy to picture this tree as it once stood hundreds of years ago—the monarch of a rolling field, as wide and endless as the sea.
Approaching the scarred and time-ravished trunk with reverence, I instantly felt a connection to Marlette. I pictured him seeking refuge here, beneath the umbrella of ancient branches. It felt a little like being tucked away inside a warm cave of brown and green, the last flickers of light mimicking a campfire.
Yet, as the sun retreated fully from the sky to make way for evening, I felt vulnerable and pessimistic about my task. My feelings must have shown on my face, because Sean gave me an encouraging smile and said, “Let’s make the most of what daylight we have left. Trust your instincts, Lila. Maybe there really is something here.”
The oak was pocked with dozens of knots and niches. Some of them rose far above my reach, and I wondered how Marlette could have found a place that no one else would be inclined to probe with curious fingertips.
While Sean examined the trunk, I decided to focus on the thickest branches. Prodding the wood, I investigated any depression large enough to contain a note. Normally, I would have enjoyed this exercise. I loved being outdoors, and the feel of the rough bark beneath my hands was a pleasant one. However, the shadows began to stretch and lengthen all around me, and even though Sean was only a few feet away, the silence became more of a presence. The bantering of birds was replaced by the shriller calls of bats, zigzagging in between the leaves in search of mosquitoes.
By the time I had searched the limbs above my head, my arms were so sore that I didn’t feel like raising them again. My head ached and I wanted to give up. The impulse to forget about this task, to go home and change into my pajamas, flounce on my mother’s couch, and drink an entire bottle of red wine, was almost too strong to resist. I was tempted to dull the sharp edges of this day with lots of alcohol, and yet, I couldn’t turn away from this tree until I found Marlette’s hiding place. Sean seemed just as determined.