Carolina Key Read online



  Carolina Key

  a Mountain Creek Mystery

  vol. 1

  Elizabeth Truiett

 

  Carolina Key

  Copyright 2012

  Elizabeth Truiett

  All rights reserved.

  Cover: Inspired Designs by Rachael Colman

  Dedicated to:

  Boyd Edwards

  The best husband in the world.

  You told me I could do it!

  I love you.

  Sun. July 8, 2008

  Hope

  When I learned Shirley Baker was dead I knew I must disappear. For good. There was only one place in which to make this happen. It was a little island called Carolina Key just west of Port Aransas. As I drove from my home in Mountain Creek, just outside of Austin, I tried not to panic. The heat of summer simmered on the pavement as mile after mile I alternately prayed to God for protection and tried to figure a way out. If only he didn’t know what I had

  found…

  Thurs. July 5, 2008

  Hope

  “Mom, where is the tomato sauce?” I turned from stacking loaves of bread in the storeroom to see my 15 year old daughter Grace, lean around the door.

  “It should be in the can pantry,” I replied.

  “Ok, how many cans do we need?” she asked.

  “Fourteen regular cans or five #10 cans,” I said.

  We were in charge of preparing dinner for 120 campers, counselors, and staff at Indian Oaks, a Christian camp for inner city youth in the cedar lined hill country of Central Texas. We were located in the town of Mountain Creek. Grace, tall, thin and beautiful with golden brown hair and a sunburned nose was a junior counselor this year. I volunteered every year for the past three years to work in the kitchen cooking and washing dishes. This was basically what I did at home anyway, just on a smaller scale.

  We retrieved the cans and went back to the kitchen to make the sauce. After frying the ground beef and tearing up 8 heads of lettuce we were ready to serve. The spaghetti dinner was a success. The children loved it and I watched with satisfaction at the looks on their faces as they slurped the tomato sauce covered noodles. The sound in the dining hall was deafening, with forks clattering to the floor and the kids giggling and screaming.

  Shirley Baker, the owner of the camp, came over. She placed her clipboard on the counter and blew out a breath.

  “Boy it’s hot today. Hope, don’t forget, we have that health inspector on Tuesday, so get the jcs (junior counselors) to do some extra scrubbing this weekend.”

  “No problem,” I said.

  Now it was our turn to eat. I loaded my plate with salad and took a small portion of the spaghetti. I was watching my weight, as always. Monday was my weigh in day. Little did I know that by Monday night I would be buried alive in the hot sand in Carolina Key fighting for everything I held dear but fearing the worst.

  Ch. 2 Hope

  Thursday night at Indian Oaks was the night the counselors reenacted the crucifixion of Jesus. The reenactment brought to life details and emotions these world weary teens knew little about. They knew much about survival but not about eternal life, salvation or hope in Jesus. Some of them had never seen a bible before. At Indian Oaks, a bible was issued to each camper right away, even before their cabin assignments. The reenactment occurred right after dinner.

  Grace, who had been excused from dish duty, and was playing the part of Mary the mother of Jesus, was getting into her costume when a flurry of teenage girls entered my kitchen.

  “Mama Stephens, Mama Stephens! You totally have to help us. Chelsea’s dress is ripped because retard Mark can’t watch where he’s going! Can you fix it like, right now? Because Daniel is going to rip us if we are late!”

  “Yes, of course. Calm down, you have fifteen minutes,” I said. Courtney was usually excitable and predictably dramatic as only teenage girls can be.

  “It’s not a bad tear but I’m going to need some black thread. Let me look in the costume room,” I said.

  The costume room was on the lower level of the main building which housed the kitchen, dining room, and the great room. The great room was where they held evening worship. The lower level had the costume room, the camp offices, the infirmary and two apartments belonging to the director and assistant director, usually college students.

  I hurried down the main staircase shaking my head at Courtney’s histrionics, and gratefully admiring Grace’s maturity. She had always been quiet and responsible, the kind of student who always helped others and watched out for the kid no one else would play with. Her teachers always told me how they appreciated her sweet spirit. I rounded the corner of the dark corridor and unlocked the costume room with the key ring Shirley had given me. The door creaked open and I was struck by how quiet this floor was.

  I guessed everyone was getting ready for the reenactment. I searched for thread for ten minutes before I gave up. It was a long shot but I decided to look in the infirmary. Who knows? Maybe it would turn up there. The long room was divided into three sections, each with a bed and curtain. There was a long countertop with cabinets along the wall and I started opening the cabinet doors to see if there was any thread anywhere. On the third cabinet I came to a metal box with a lock on it. The lock had been sawed in two and when I picked it up it fell to the floor. Wincing at the clatter, I stooped down to pick it up thinking it was some type of medication that had to be locked up.

  After all, we were dealing with kids whose whole lives had seen the destruction from drugs, alcohol, and bad choices. Thinking I might find some antihistamine or other medication that could be cooked, sniffed, or otherwise altered I was surprised to find gold coins used in the younger campers’ store. The store was set up to reward the kids for good behavior and memorizing bible verses. Grace had told me how they taught the story from the bible in

  Matthew 17 where Jesus tells the apostles to catch a fish and open its mouth to find gold coins to

  pay their taxes. The kids loved the story and for many of them and actually some of the counselors it was the first time they had heard it. As I stooped down to pick up the coins and put them back into the box I heard footsteps and Shirley appeared around the door calling out,

  “Is anybody in here?” Shirley was in her early 50s and still quite fit and pretty with shiny brown hair and a face framed with spiky bangs. She had incredible energy and displayed a spirit of eternal hope for the camp.

  “Yes, Shirley. It’s just me, Hope.” I said as she entered the room and stared down at the coins.

  “What happened? What are those doing in here?” she asked. I explained what I was looking for

  and what I had found. I watched as she picked up several coins and turned them over in her hands. “But these aren’t…” she began and looked up sharply as Daniel, the camp director came into the room.

  “Mrs. Stephens, we need the bottles of water for the water truck. Do you know where they are?” he asked. Daniel was tall and built like a lineman with blond hair and dark green eyes.

  “Yes, they’re in the pantry. There should be 120. One for everyone,” I answered.

  He crossed over to where we were crouched on the floor picking up the coins. He grabbed the lock and the box.

  “Where did this come from?” he asked, his voice angry. I looked up at him with surprise.

  “Oh, it’s just the kids’ reward tokens. I’m sure one of the campers just thought he would keep his stash safe. I guess someone found it, though it looks like this lock has been sawed in two. Kind of scary to think
of one of the campers with a saw,” I laughed.

  “Hope, there should be some black thread in my office drawer. I keep a little sewing kit in there.” Shirley said.

  “Ok, I guess I better get back. Courtney is afraid you are going to “rip” her, Daniel.” I said, pushing myself up off the floor and dusting off my pants.

  “No chance, Mrs. Stephens.” Daniel said with a smile, one that had caused more than one girl’s heart to flutter during his twenty years.