Page 47 of Anchored

I glance over. “Well, first loves are important. Who was yours? Macy?”

He doesn’t look at me when he responds. “Hmm. No, I don’t think so. The thing is I don’t know if it was love or just a crush.” He swings his gaze to me, an uncertainty in his eyes that has me wondering if he’s referring to me and our first kiss. “Who was your first love?”

Warmth floods my entire body as I take in this man who has somehow swept into my life again and turned everything on its head. I wasn’t looking for this when I came to Anchor Lake. I only wanted to help Grandma Gracie in her time of need, but somehow feelings of a different kind have snuck in.

“It was you. And same.”

His fingers tighten on mine. The silence that fills the Jeep is heavy with memories and what-ifs. I’m not sure there’s any point to rehashing what might have been if I’d lived in Anchor Lake full-time back then. Or if Holt hadn’t walked away after our kiss. That’s all in the past, written in stone and unchangeable. Unlike what I’m hoping to find out about Grandma Gracie’s past. There’s still time for these two lovebirds to reconnect. When I might be losing so much with Grandma’s diagnosis, I need to believe in a romantic miracle.

The police station isn’t busy when we walk in. A woman in uniform behind the plexiglass front desk gives Holt a warm smile, then reaches down behind her desk to pull out a doggie bone to slide under the opening to Mookie. The officer is pretty in a natural way that also tells me she’s a no-nonsense kind of woman. Her blonde hair is pulled back into a severe bun and her nails are unpainted.

“Bett, this is Maple Thatcher, Gracie Thatcher’s granddaughter. Maple, this is Bett Johnston.” Holt makes the introductions and Bett smiles warmly at me too. “Got stuck on desk duty today?”

“Yeah, but I got first dibs on Jackie’s bourbon donuts, so it all works out. Nice to meet you, Maple. Gracie was always such a character. We’ve missed her now that she’s down at Sunny Shores. What can I do for you three?”

I like her instantly, maybe because she doesn’t ogle Holt and the fact she included Mookie in the body count. People who respect animals are always okay in my book.

“I have sort of an odd request. I’m looking for a crime that was committed in 1963.”

Bett whistles. “That’s all on the computer now. If there’s anything at all, it would be there. Want to come on back and I’ll get you set up on one of the computers?”

Holt nods. “Thanks, Bett.”

A buzzing noise fills the small lobby and Holt swings open the door to the left of the front desk. I sweep inside and Holt follows. Bett meets us and gets us settled at the computer bank against the far wall of the police station. She types in some passwords and pulls up a database.

“Okay, just type in all the information you know and it should pull up any police reports. If you don’t find what you’re looking for, maybe the library would have some old newspaper clippings.”

“Thank you,” I manage to say. I’m so excited my hands are shaking.

Bett leaves us to go back to the front desk. Holt takes the chair in front of the computer and clicks around. I sit next to him and suggest key words to use. We both hold our breaths while the spinning hourglass mocks us from the computer screen. Even Mookie quits her panting and fidgeting.

Finally a list of documents populate the page and Holt clicks on the first one. It’s a report filed by the Anchor Lake Baptist Church, detailing money stolen from the back office. The amount stolen seems pretty small, but maybe it wasn’t so small back in 1963. Holt gets out of that document and clicks on the next listing, both of us reading silently but pointing out anything that catches our eye.

It’s on the fourth document that we both freeze. It’s an interview with a man described as Mr. McGrath. The police asked him about the money and his whereabouts the night of the crime.

Holt sits back in his chair like the keyboard electrocuted him. “They thought someone in my family robbed the church?” He turns to me with wide eyes behind his glasses.

Dread tamps down all the excitement I felt on the way over here. “Maybe they interviewed a lot of people?”

Holt and I stare at each other, wondering what the hell is going on.

Gracie’s diary

(62 years ago)

Dear Diary,

I woke with a jolt. Daddy was yelling in the kitchen, something he rarely does. I sat up and blinked my tired eyes. It took me forever to fall asleep last night because of everything that had happened and everything that had to happen today. How could a girl be so excited and yet so scared all at the same time?

I wanted to marry Hank so badly, but I also wanted my parents to be happy for us, which I knew they wouldn’t be. They wanted me to go to college. Then find a nice boy and settle down. Married at eighteen was what my mama had done and she always said she wanted more for me before I became a wife and mother. How could I convince her that Hank was my something more?

Daddy’s voice rose again and I flung the covers back. Mama’s voice wasn’t as loud, but her tone was insistent. I needed to find out what was going on. Tiptoeing out of my room, I hid in the hallway, listening to them in the kitchen.

“Pastor Clayton said all the tithes from the whole month are gone! That’s not a small hiccup!”

Mama tried to soothe him, but Daddy was too worked up. “I have to get to the church. Charles, down at the drugstore, said he saw McGrath skulking around the church yesterday.” He paused while my heart tripped over itself. McGrath? He had to be talking about Hank’s father. “Lock the doors. I don’t like that family and they live just one block over.”

I sprinted back to my room, shutting the door and sliding to the floor. Tears tracked down my cheeks. I could feel my heart being torn in two. I looked down at my beautiful ring and sobbed.

---