In Fort Charlotte, she spotted a Raceway station, stopping since she needed to fill her gas tank, make the call, then head to the sheriff’s department. Inside, she paid cash for the gasoline and bought a soda before returning to the Jeep. Tammy had told her she could call information on the cell just like she would on a landline, so she did and asked for the sheriff department’s number and address. A couple seconds later, an automated voice gave her the information and also sent her a text. “Nice,” she said to herself, glad she’d bought the cell phone, her earlier regrets gone.
She gathered her thoughts, as she wanted to make sure she didn’t come off as some psycho when she called. She dialed the number, then hit send. Her call was answered on the second ring.
“Palm County Sheriff’s Department; how may I direct your call?” said a friendly voice.
“I need to speak to someone about a body that was found,” she said. “A long time ago,” she added, knowing the operator might assume she was reporting a new body.
“Do you have the victim’s name?”
Surprised by the question, she said she did not.
“You’ll have to visit the clerk’s office when they’re open, as I don’t have another way to search their records. Sorry,” the operator said.
“Palmetto Island. A young girl’s remains were found there. I think it’s been a few years.”
The operator’s response wasn’t as immediate as before. “Yes, I seem to recall this. Can you hold for a moment?”
“Yes,” Ali said, thankful the woman was willing to find the information for her.
A few minutes passed. Ali was starting to think she’d somehow disconnected the call when the operator returned. “Ma’am, are you a member of the victim’s family?”
“No.”
“Then I can’t give you this information on the phone. You’ll need to go down to the clerk’s office on Monday, as I said. They’ll direct you on what steps you need to take.”
“Thanks, but can I ask why? Why did you want to know if I was a family member?”
She heard the operator sigh. “I shouldn’t tell you this, but this particular case, no one has claimed . . . the victim’s remains.”
It took a few seconds for Ali to absorb her words. “I see,” she finally said, though she didn’t. “I appreciate your help.” She hit the end button before the operator became suspicious or asked her why she wanted to know or exactly how she was connected to something that Ali, only a short while ago, thought was nothing but a rumor. What she wanted to know now was did “the rumor” have a name?
Chapter Seven
Ali sat in the parking lot for a few minutes before heading back to Palmetto Island. Lacey hadn’t been spreading rumors after all. Wishing she’d asked the operator for her name, Ali would make a trip to the clerk’s office as soon as she got settled.
The drive back to the island was uneventful. No gray sedans following her. The island was small—seeing the car at the beach, then behind her while waiting for the bridge to close, was nothing more than unwarranted paranoia. Having spent most of her life looking over her shoulder, she knew it would take time before she completely rid herself of the habit.
As she approached Matlacha Pass, a few fishermen were on the bridge, their buckets, rods and reels with red-and-white bobbers on the tips just waiting to be cast into the deep waters below. Maybe she’d try fishing. She had no clue how to get started, but if and when the time came, she would prepare herself by reading up on the subject. She was self-taught in many things—why not add fishing to the list?
Thankful the wooden swing bridge was closed, she punched the gas, going too fast, but she didn’t care. She didn’t like driving across the bridge, as it didn’t feel secure. Given her luck, it would collapse when she drove across the antiquated structure. Admittedly, there was an old charm about it, but she’d much rather have her wheels on solid ground.
Ali wanted to return to the beach but decided against it, as she did not want to encounter Dr. Bruce or Deputy Sanders. She pulled in front of her rented cottage, heading inside and wishing she’d asked Renée for her cell number. Then she remembered the Souvenir Shop would have a phone. She again called directory assistance for the number. A follow-up text let her know the address, too. Modern marvels—how had she managed to go without them for so long?
Dialing the number to the store, she realized it was Sunday and was unsure if they were open.
Valentina picked up. “Hello,” she said in a cheery voice, “Souvenir Shop.”
“This is Alison—Ali. I hope I’m not bothering you. I wasn’t sure if you were open,” she said, feeling foolish all of a sudden. There was no reason for her to call, and if she asked for Renée’s number, her mother would think her immature.
“We’re always open on weekends, even in the summer,” Valentina said. “I hear the police are at the beach house. Are you still planning on purchasing the place?”
“I think it’s too good an offer to pass up, so yes, I’m meeting the sales agent in the morning to complete the paperwork. Is there some history I should know about the house? When I told Renée I might buy the place, she clammed up.” She didn’t tell her what Lacey said, though Ali felt sure Valentina already knew this.
“Just about everyone here on the island knows about the little girl’s remains they discovered. It’s been a few years. I honestly haven’t thought about it in a while. No one ever came forward when they were found. Poor girl was left in the morgue.”
Knowing it might be out of line, but doing it anyway, Ali asked, “When I mentioned I was going to buy the place, you didn’t think to tell me?” She doubted Valentina would outright lie to her, but wouldn’t someone with her gift share their knowledge of this tragedy?
“Actually, I did. I didn’t want to scare you off. As I told you, it’s a great deal, and I saw no reason to share the story, knowing you’d find out on your own.”
Ali thought that made sense . . . but still. “How did they know the bones belonged to a young girl?”
“If memory serves me correctly, they found a little dress, shoes, and a bracelet. The bones were analyzed in Tampa, and the DNA was sent to a missing children’s website where they keep records of unsolved cases. No one has claimed her remains, so it’s still a mystery. No one reported a missing child,” Valentina explained. “At the time, Renée was young, so I tried to keep her away from the news. I didn’t want her to be afraid.”
“I can understand that, though I’d be more worried since they haven’t found the person or persons who did this. It’s odd that I dug up that bone. Don’t you agree?”
“It’s very odd,” Valentina agreed. “Not the best impression of our little slice of paradise. After a while, you just forget the bad things, and do your best to live in the moment.”
“I understand.” Ali got the feeling Valentina did not want to discuss what happened. She’d forget about it, too. For now. But Ali had a hard time letting sleeping dogs lie. Wanting to ask more questions about the little girl, she held back. She would search the local records, but another time. Beyond curious, she didn’t want anyone, especially Valentina, to know of her intense interest in the girl’s remains, so she changed the subject. “I wanted to thank Renée for offering to help clear out the drive this morning. And apologize, as I was a bit harsh when I told her to leave.”