When Officer Safford finally unlocked the door and peered into the room, Ray was still sitting in that same position, rocking back and forth. Doc and Candy were standing quietly beside him. There was nothing more to say.
“Does he have an attorney?” Doc asked as Ray was coaxed to his feet.
Officer Safford nodded. “He’s got someone. And a county social worker has been assigned to him also. He’s in good hands.”
“What’s the lawyer’s name?” Candy asked.
“Big-time guy by the name of Cromwell. Down from Bangor.”
With that, Ray was led away, and Candy and Doc were left alone in an empty room.
EIGHTEEN
As Candy and Doc drove into Cape Willington, the sun finally broke through the coastal clouds, brightening the day, but it did little to lift their spirits. They had talked themselves out on the drive home and had ridden the last twenty minutes or so in silence. But as they approached the Coastal Loop, Doc straightened, rubbed at his eyes, stretched, and then looked over at her. “You want to stop at the diner for a while? Get a cup of coffee maybe, see if Finn’s got any news about the investigation?”
Candy glanced at her watch. It was eleven fifteen. She was supposed to meet Maggie at the diner at twelve thirty for lunch, but she knew she’d have a hard time sitting still until then. She shook her head. “How ’bout I drop you off and meet you back there in a bit?”
“You got something planned?”
Candy shrugged, trying to dispel the disheartening feeling that had settled over her. “Ben asked me to stop by the Crier offices to pick up some files and sign a few forms, so I guess I’ll run over there and see what’s up.”
Doc nodded approvingly. “Good idea. While you’re there, see what you can find out about Ray’s case. Maybe Ben’s heard something. And I’ll talk to Finn and the boys. Then we can compare notes and see what our next move is.”
Candy felt only the faintest ray of hope, but at least they were doing something. “Sounds like a plan.”
She drove into town, turned onto Main Street, and pulled up to the curb in front of Duffy’s. Doc opened the passenger door and climbed out while the Jeep idled noisily.
“I’ll be back around in an hour or so,” Candy called to her father. “Will you be okay ’til then?”
“Don’t worry about me. Just don’t forget to pick me up on your way back through.”
She gave him an indulgent look. “I won’t forget, Dad.” Doc closed the door and, leaning in the window, smiled at her. “I know you won’t, pumpkin.”
“Dad…” she began, then allowed herself the briefest smile when she saw the mischievous twinkle in his eyes.
“You know, you’re mighty pretty when you smile like that,” he said with a wink. Then, slapping the side of the Jeep in farewell, he ambled off toward Duffy’s Diner.
Candy pulled back out onto Main Street and made an almost immediate left onto Ocean Avenue, her eyes scanning both sides of the street for a parking spot. But not surprisingly, there was none to be found.
She swore under her breath and considered making a U-turn right there in the center of town but thought better of it when she saw a police car in her rearview mirror. So, with no other options, she decided she’d just have to circle back around on the Loop and make another pass along Main Street. Maybe, with luck, she’d find an open spot.
At the bottom of Ocean Avenue she dutifully put on her turn signal and, after pausing an appropriate amount of time at the stop sign, made a right turn onto the Loop, which took her southward along the coastline. A moist warm breeze blew in the window, bringing with it the heady, comforting smells of the sea.
She couldn’t help glancing off to her left, out over at the ocean, as she drove. It was a magnificent shade of deep blue today, rich and lively, a color that reminded her of nothing less than cool, ripe blueberries. The sea tossed restlessly. A sail or two could be seen on the hazy horizon. Flocks of gulls, cawing raucously, swarmed after whatever tidbits their dark questing eyes could find.
Candy loved being by the ocean. Despite the fact that she drove past it several times a week, she still marveled at it every time she saw it. There was something magical about the sea-perhaps, she thought, because it was constantly moving, always changing yet always the same, unending, unstoppable. It could be graceful and generous, yet dangerous and sometimes deadly, demanding respect.
But there was more to it than that. The sea had become almost spiritual to her. It had a way of flowing into her, inhabiting her, fulfilling her. For those few moments, as she gazed out over the ocean, the cares of the everyday world seemed trivial, so small in comparison to the vastness and majesty of the sea.
Whenever she was feeling down, or stressed, or overwhelmed by the constant jabs and distractions of the world, or when she felt she had lost her way, she had only to stand here upon these jutting black rocks that lined the coast and look out to the sea, and she would feel at peace again.
But she had no time to gaze too long at the sea today. The troubles of the world were pressing in, poking at her, like thorns on a rosebush.
Speaking of thorns…
As she angled southwestward along the Loop, the pointed rooftops of Pruitt Manor came into view above the tops of a few thick-trunked pines that had made a bold stand on Kimball Point. The place seemed to beckon to her, and she felt compelled to respond.
Before she knew what she was doing, Candy had flicked on her left-turn blinker and steered the Jeep sharply onto a private driveway that led between two five-foot-tall stone pillars. The iron gate stood open, so she drove on through, still not quite sure what she was doing. A small, tasteful sign alongside the road announced PRUITT MANOR-PRIVATE PROPERTY.
She had been here only once before that she could recall, when Mrs. Pruitt had opened the place to the Cape Willington Garden Society. Candy and Maggie were only occasional Society members, but they had made sure they were there that day, dressed in cool summer frocks like the other ladies, wearing broad-brimmed straw hats as they strolled the grounds under the watchful eyes of Mrs. Pruitt and her staff. They had even been invited into certain sections of the house-the foyer, the formal sitting room, the music room, and a few other rooms on the main level, plus the conservatory, a magnificent gabled glass-and-mahogany structure at the back of the house, from which double doors and a bluestone staircase led down to a wide lawn that stopped at a jumble of rocks perched above the roiling sea.
The place had taken Candy’s breath away. Mrs. Pruitt had even been reasonably hospitable that day, offering the ladies of the Society tea and trays full of finger foods as she pointed out her herb, rose, and perennial gardens abloom with pulmonarias, primulas, nepetas, and verbascums. That had been the first time Candy had noticed Hopkins (or whatever his name was), the pug-faced butler /chauffeur who never seemed to be too far from Mrs. Pruitt’s side.
Even now, as she followed the winding gravel driveway toward Pruitt Manor and pulled into the wide paved courtyard that fronted the house, Candy half expected the butler to dash suddenly from the mansion’s front door, arms flailing wildly in protest of her appearance here.
And, in truth, she did feel like a pauper in a princess’s court as she shut off the Jeep’s engine and leaned forward to gaze through the windshield, up at the imposing English Tudor façade of Pruitt Manor.
“Oh man,” she said softly to herself.
It took all the will she could muster to open the door and step out of the vehicle. She wished then that she had worn something more presentable, instead of her regular faded jeans and sleeveless cotton blouse. But no matter-she was here now. She might as well do what she had come here to do.