I couldn’t get Jasper’s words out of my head. Sitting in the uncomfortable chair by the small table that had papers strewn across the surface, the images his tale invoked flashed through my mind. My hand trembled slightly as I poured another drink. Whiskey sours had always seemed to soothe my nerves.Of course, not that I had ever really needed an excuse to have a drink.Taking a sip, I glanced back over the mess in front of me. Scribbled notes, half written in some cases, a few of them hastily written during phone calls to my mother who reluctantly related names and addresses of old friends. She didn’t want to see me here, sifting through the dirty past of our family. But, who ever wanted to drag their skeletons from the family closet?
The journalist in me wanted to. I wanted to drag those bones out, kicking and screaming if necessary. From the way my mother and the damned residents of this town were, it seemed that was going to be the way things went down. God, but these people were closemouthed. It probably didn’t help that I was using my maiden name. The Rainey family had quite a history here, reaching back into the settlement of Carolina, before there was a North or South Carolina.
Quite a bloody history, it seemed. My vision blurred and I ran my hand over them, trying to massage away the weariness. I needed to call my mother and ask if she knew of the Cotes people, maybe relate a watered down version of Jasper’s story to her. See if any of it rang a bell. Doubtful if she would say anything if it did.
Opening my eyes, the first thing that caught my attention was a slip of paper half under the telephone. I didn’t remember moving the phone, though somehow the paper had slid underneath it. I reached for it and had to pull a little harder than I expected. The little rubber nub of a foot the hotel phones all seem to have was right in the middle of it. Did I place it under there so it wouldn’t get lost among the mess? The paper was crisp, the graphite dark and slightly smudged with an address on it and a neatly drawn map.
But it wasn’t in my handwriting.
