Cries of the Children(107)

Gordy’s whole life was the clam bar, and he spent most of his waking hours there whether he was actually working or not. They found him in the kitchen, shucking clams for the upcoming lunch crowd. He looked up, but didn’t seem surprised to see them. His eyes cast a questioning look in Samantha’s direction for just a second, but he didn’t move quickly enough for her not to notice.

“Hello,” he said simply. “Looks like your party grew a bit.”

“Gordy, we have to ask you some questions,” Wil said.

“You seem to enjoy asking questions,” Gordy replied. “ ‘Course, I suppose as a detective-type, that’s your job. What is it you want to know?”

“The yellow house . . .” Wil began. “Was another structure put up in its place?”

“No,” Gordy said. “That property has stood empty for decades. Don’t make much sense, being prime waterfront real estate. Some say it belongs to the government.”

Barbara grumbled: “That figures.”

“Could you tell us where to find the lot?”

“You already know,” Gordy said. “It’s near the jetty, like you said. You can’t miss the spot. It’s the only property on the block overgrown with weeds—even at this time of the year.”

“I remember that place,” Eric said. The others agreed with him. “It doesn’t look like anyone’s taken care of it in years.”

“You’re probably right,” Gordy said. “But I can’t blame people for staying away. Strange things happened in that house just before it burned down. People said they saw glowing orange lights behind the windows.”

“Flames,” Eric suggested.

“Not that color orange,” Gordy said. “Weird lights—magical.”

He stared down at his hands, wet with clam juice.

“I always wondered about that,” he said. “Wondered if it had anything to do with the explosion.”

“What explosion?” Samantha asked.

“Out at sea,” Gordy said. “It happened just a day before the house burned down. Big enough to light up the whole sea and sky. Then this big navy ship showed up, probably investigating.”

“Did they ever explain what it was?” Wil asked.

“Oh, sure,” Gordy said. “They said it was an oil tanker. But you saw what that tanker did up in Alaska, spilling those millions of gallons of oil. There wasn’t a drop out there, not a drop. You tell me how an oil tanker explodes and doesn’t leave a bit of its cargo.”

“Do you have any theories?” Wil asked.

“Yeah,” Gordy said. “I think it was some kind of enemy submarine, maybe Russian. I don’t think they wanted people to know how close they got, so as not to start a panic.”

“You thought it had something to do with the yellow house burning down,” Samantha reminded him.

“Oh, probably just coincidence,” Gordy said. “There sure were a lot of things happening that summer here in Shoaling. That’s the same year Shoaling Aeronautics went up.”

All the while he was speaking, he stared very intently at Samantha. When he finished, he seemed to realize what he’d been doing, and turned away.

“Why do you keep doing that?” Samantha demanded.

Gordy did not deny that he’d been staring.

“I’m wondering why you don’t remember me,” he said.

Samantha’s eyebrows went up. Wil took a step closer to her.

“What . . . what do you mean?” she asked. “I came here as a child. Of course I don’t remember you!”

Gordy shook his head. “I don’t know what you did when you were a kid. I remember you from the night of the explosion. You came wandering in here, all straggly with seaweed and sand. Seemed you’d swum a good distance. I thought you might be a Rusky because you wouldn’t say a word. But you seemed like a sweet, scared kid. So I fed you hot soup and tried to get you to a hospital, but you’d have none of it.”

“That’s crazy!” Samantha cried. “I wasn’t here ten years ago! I was never even on a boat!”

“Maybe you’re mixing her up with someone else,” Wil suggested, although he didn’t believe this.

Gordy’s white head swung back and forth with vigor.

“No, I don’t forget faces,” he said. “You’re definitely the woman I saw. Maybe you were hurt badly in that explosion—whatever it was—and it affected your memory,”

Samantha turned to hug Wil, completely bewildered. Gordy’s reference to memory hit a little too close to home. When was this going to end?

Barbara’s yellow brows furled.