Unhallowed Ground

“Hunky Harry’s.”

“There’s really place called Hunky Harry’s?” Caleb asked incredulously. “Is there really a Harry? And is he hunky?” he teased.

“There is a Harry, and he’s been old as long as I can remember, so he’s got to be…really old. And he likes to think he’s hunky. It’s a popular place with locals and tourists alike. So popular that he changes the name periodically, when he gets sick of the crowds.”

“So Harry is a real character.”

She shrugged, walking toward Avenida Menendez. “Maybe you’ll get to see for yourself. He may or may not be around tonight. He comes in when he feels like it. When he does, he cleans tables, washes glasses, even cooks up a few appetizers. Yes, he’s a real character.”

She was keeping a definite distance between them, he noticed. She still didn’t trust him; he wouldn’t be here at all, walking with her, planning to spend time with her friends, if it weren’t for Adam.

“So exactly why are you here in town?” she asked.

“Jennie Lawson,” he said.

She looked at him. “The woman who disappeared last year?”

“Yes. You heard about it, I take it?”

“I wasn’t living back down here then, but Caroline showed me the newspaper this afternoon. Jennie Lawson was mentioned because of Winona Hart, the local girl who just disappeared. The article said they don’t know that she ever got to St. Augustine.”

“I know, but according to her mother, she was heading here.”

“And you think you can find her—here—after all this time?”

“Her mother doesn’t think she’s still alive, but she does think I’ll find out what happened to her, whether she got this far or not.”

“You know, there’s a possibility that…that she wanted to disappear.”

“There’s always that possibility. But…” He left off speaking and shrugged. “What I was saying to Roberta before? I’ve found that to be true. Whether it’s instinct, extrasensory perception or what, I don’t know. But when a mother feels her child is dead, she’s almost always right.”

She stared at him, obviously bothered by his words. “That’s horrible.”

“Of course it is,” he agreed. “Any death is sad.”

“No, I mean your attitude. How are you going to find her if you don’t believe it’s possible that she’s alive? You need to…believe,” she told him.

“I need to do everything in my power—whether she’s alive or dead—that’s what matters,” he said.

She shook her head in disgust.

“All right,” he said, “you tell me. What about the local girl? What’s your feeling about her? Did she just run away? Is she trying to punish her parents? What do you believe?”

She kept shaking her head, pulling ahead of him a little. “No. But things…happen. Maybe she’s hurt somewhere. And that’s why it matters that people move quickly.”

“Jennie disappeared a year ago,” he reminded her.

“Maybe she has amnesia. Stranger things have happened,” she assured him.

“I will find her. Alive or dead, I will find out what happened to her,” he said flatly.

She fell silent for a few seconds, then, changing the subject, said, “You met Will Perkins this morning.”

“Yes. Why?”

“He’s my cousin.”

“Cool.”

She was walking very quickly now, as if she were uncomfortable with him. “There’s the restaurant,” she said.

Avenida Menendez fronted the water. From where they stood, he could see the massive fortification of Ft. Marion, gleaming in the moonlight in all its historic glory. Horse-drawn carriages lined the opposite side of the street. Groups of tourists were walking around, some couples holding hands or arm in arm. There were several hotels nearby, and numerous restaurants. The downtown historic area was small, the streets busy with car traffic along with all the pedestrians. He saw tables in front of a café and bar. The neon sign, adorned with palm fronds and plastic alligators, advertised Hunky Harry’s.

She preceded him, winding her way through the outside tables and walking straight to a table at the rear. He eyed the single empty chair as he recognized Will, Caroline and the other two docents from the museum, Renee Otten and Barry Travis.

“Hey!” Will saw him and stood, grinning. “Nice that you came along.” He set an arm around Sarah’s shoulders, drawing her against him to give her a rub on the head. They were obviously close. They resembled one another, too, with the same shade of hair and eyes, so much alike, yet Will was as completely masculine as Sarah was feminine.

“Sarah invited me along. I hope that’s all right,” Caleb said, after greeting everyone.

“It’s great!” Renee said enthusiastically.

“I’m impressed you got Sarah here. I thought for sure she’d blow us off tonight,” Caroline said.

“Here we go, another chair,” Barry offered, pulling one over from another table.

“Thanks,” Caleb said, taking the seat.

Everyone started talking at once, stepping on each other’s words, and he tried to keep up the chatter until a waitress came and took their orders. He opted for the fish of the day and wondered why the others all gave him funny looks.

As soon as the waitress left, the conversation turned to the skeletons in Sarah’s house.

“How long do you think it will take them to remove them all?” Renee asked.

“It can take months—years, even—at some sites,” Barry said glumly.

Sarah glared at him.

“Sorry,” Barry said.

“You don’t have to let it take months,” Caleb said to Sarah.

They all stared at him. “You have training in the field, too, so you can call the shots. So far, you’ve done all the right things, brought in the authorities and the experts. Now you can take control. You know the right people, so keep the process moving. Whatever crime took place, it was over a hundred years ago. You can see to it that everything is done right, that people are respectful of both the bodies and the historical record. And then you can let the forensic anthropologists have their day once the bodies are out of your house.”

Sarah stared at him and nodded slowly. “I…guess so.”

Caroline tossed her hair back. “Don’t just guess. Caleb is right. Take control.”

“It’s true. This is the kind of work I was doing in Virginia, but I certainly wasn’t in charge. In a lot of ways, historians are really just record keepers, secretaries for the past. Once the bodies are removed and the remains dated…come to think of it, it will be intriguing to research the situation. And it is my house, damn it!” She slammed a fist on the table and grinned. “If there’s investigating to be done, there’s no reason why I can’t do it.”