Bodies Out Back Read online

  Bodies Out Back

  By Nanisi Barrett D’Arnuk

  Published by JMS Books LLC

  Visit jms-books.com for more information.

  Copyright 2019 Nanisi Barrett D’Arnuk

  ISBN 9781646560936

  Cover Design: Written Ink Designs | written-ink.com

  Image(s) used under a Standard Royalty-Free License.

  All rights reserved.

  WARNING: This book is not transferable. It is for your own personal use. If it is sold, shared, or given away, it is an infringement of the copyright of this work and violators will be prosecuted to the fullest extent of the law.

  No portion of this book may be transmitted or reproduced in any form, or by any means, without permission in writing from the publisher, with the exception of brief excerpts used for the purposes of review.

  This book is for ADULT AUDIENCES ONLY. It may contain sexually explicit scenes and graphic language which might be considered offensive by some readers. Please store your files where they cannot be accessed by minors.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are solely the product of the author’s imagination and/or are used fictitiously, though reference may be made to actual historical events or existing locations. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  Published in the United States of America.

  * * * *

  For Ti.

  * * * *

  Bodies Out Back

  By Nanisi Barrett D’Arnuk

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 1

  Lake Memphremagog, Vermont

  Cameron and Michael walked along the shoreline of the property. The entire piece of land and the house were perfect. The pier behind them looked sturdy and in very good shape. The house was a good structure, facing the widest part of Lake Memphremagog and Province Island. The lake cut its way through the area from Newport, Vermont, to Magog, Quebec. The US—Canadian border formed the northern boundary of this piece of property.

  Cam turned and looked up at the house again. It was a wooden structure but, like most buildings this far north, was built well to stand the spring rains and winter freeze. It was barely fifty years old.

  “Well?” Cam asked softly.

  “I like it, but it’s your decision. What do you think?” Michael said. Her name was really Michelle but she preferred the pronunciation Michael. The only one who ever called her Michelle was her grandmother but with mémé’s old French-Canadian accent it almost sounded like Michael.

  Cameron Andrews stood on the front lawn and looked out onto the lake. The beautiful, deep, dark blue water was mesmerizing as the early spring breezes pushed tiny ripples across it. Gentle water always calmed her, which was what she needed when she returned home from work.

  This property was so out of the way that not many could simply drop-by and that was what she needed most. Cam had been an undercover agent for the United States government for over ten years. When she returned from one of her dangerous CIA or DEA assignments, she needed peace and tranquility, not a lot of people, noise, and activity.

  “Have you made a decision?” Michael asked.

  Cam turned around to look up at her five-foot-eleven ash-blond lover. “I think I like it. We should do a walk-through one more time to make sure.”

  “I know you want my opinion, but this will be your house. I already have a house in Montreal.” Michael wrapped her arms around her.

  Cameron laughed. “You’d think that at forty I could make a decision, but this is the first home I’ve ever had to buy.”

  “I thought you owned one in Massachusetts.”

  “I do. I have the one my grandmother left me, but my aunt has the right to live there until she can’t anymore. I’m not sure what I’m going to do when that happens.”

  “You’re a long way from having to make that decision. What do you want until then?”

  “I love this lake and I think I want the house, but I need to see it all one more time to make sure.”

  They both turned to look up at the wooden structure. The northern two-thirds of it was two-story with a slightly sloped roof, then the roof sloped further down to make the southern portion a tad more than a single level.

  “It looks fine, I think.” There were four acres included with it on this side of the street. There was the house, a two-car garage, a tool or garden shed, and the pier that jutted out into the lake. The house had three bedrooms, two baths, an enormous fireplace, a full kitchen, and plenty of storage space. There was also another twelve acres of unexplored wooded land behind the house on the other side of the street.

  “I know I don’t need something this big but it’s a good price and right where I want to be. I know the price seems kind of high, but all the furniture is included and it still looks good. I’ll only have to buy new mattresses.”

  “Good. I don’t think you want to sleep on someone else’s bed.”

  “No, it’s too much like a hotel or prison.”

  Cam had spent ten months in a women’s prison in Maryland on her first case for the DEA. It had been a dangerous assignment. Two DEA agents had already been killed; one died instantly, the other after five years in an intensive-care medical facility.

  Cam had taken on the case and decided the safest way to approach it was to actually commit a crime and be arrested for it. That way, there’d be arrest records and court documents to back it up. The cover had worked so well, that when she’d cleared the case, she persuaded her superiors in the DEA and CIA to let her keep the cover. She’d solved several more cases under the guise of being a convicted felon. The case had never been expunged so there were still references to her crime on the internet.

  They each scanned the house again. On the two-story side there were dormer windows on the north and another wide gabled window upstairs and four six-over-one windows downstairs facing the lake. There was also a large, roofed screened-in porch that ran along the house on the lake side. Larger six-over-one windows framed the chimney on the south side.

  “Let’s walk through it again. I think I like it but let’s make sure,” Cam decided.

  Cam took Michael’s hand as they went back to the screened porch. There was a tall lady in a business suit waiting for them.

  “I think I like it, but I want to walk through one more time,” Cam told her.

  “Of course,” the realtor said. “Look wherever you want. Do you have more questions?”

  “I probably will when I finish the walk-through.” Cam smiled at her. “It looks like a good house.”

  Michael followed as Cam walked through the first floor. A small kitchen faced the back yard. Through the kitchen window you could look up into the woods across the street and at any traffic on the two-lane road that ran through the property.

  Michael opened the cabinets in the kitchen.

  “They left all the dishes and utensils, too,” she exclaimed. “And the pots and pans are excellent. Everything looks very clean.”

  “Yes,�
�� said the realtor, “when Mr. Whitburn’s son came to move his father out of here, they took all the food but left just about everything else. He said he had no need or space for things that his father didn’t want. There are also quite a few tools in the tool shed, including a lawnmower, if it still works. For whatever you don’t want, you can hold a yard sale or give them to a charity. Yard sales are quite popular here, there’s someone around the lake having one almost every weekend. There are also charity stores in both Newport and Magog that will take them. “

  “Good idea.” Cam nodded to Michael.

  A laundry room was wedged between the kitchen and bathroom. A washer and dryer were hitched up in there with places to hang clean clothes. Open bottles of laundry detergent and fabric softener sat on a shelf above the appliances.

  “Let me show you this,” the realtor said. On the north wall of the laundry room there was a sturdy handle bolted into the wall. The realtor pulled on it and a wall of shelving rolled out into the room. There were barrels and containers on the shelves which went all the way to the ceiling. The whole thing was about a foot and a half wide and several feet deep.

  “Wow,” Cam said with wonder in her voice.

  “Yes, this is one of the extras in here. You can store appliances you don’t use every day or extra canned goods.” She inspected some of the shelves. “I think someone needs to go through everything in here.” She rolled the wall back into its space between the kitchen and bathroom.

  They came out of the laundry room and walked into the main part of the house.

  Two small bedrooms faced the lake and a small bathroom faced the north side.

  The major room that filled up the entire southern part was the living room with its rock fireplace. The fireplace against the south wall looked huge. She could tell it had once been used for cooking. In fact, there was a small side chamber that would have been used to cook bread or smoke meat. There was a screen and fireplace tools there also.

  The entire area, consisting of a third of the downstairs, held the dining area and living room in one open space, only divided from the kitchen by a short wall that could be used as a serving counter. Nestled into the southeast corner was a table and chairs that could seat six. If needed, folding chairs and an extra table leaf could be added to accommodate eight or ten.

  That part of the house had beamed ceilings that followed the contour of the roof. The windows on the south, lake, and eastern sides let in a lot of light. Cam checked the window moldings again. They were secure and well caulked. The storm windows looked like they had been replaced only a few years ago. She had already inspected the foundation outside.

  The floors on this first level were wide oak and still shined in most places where the stain and polish hadn’t been worn away by foot traffic.

  She stood back and looked up at the wall that divided the house. It was right under the apex of the roof. The upper floor, which was the other two-thirds of the house, held a big bedroom facing the lake and a bath facing the woods. Beautiful wide dormer windows looked north; two in the bedroom, one in the bathroom.

  About eight feet of the upper wall toward the east of the house only had a thirty-six-inch tall wall with the area above closed with heavy brocade drapes. The drapes could be pushed aside so the heat from the fireplace would rise to heat that bedroom. That would save a lot on oil or electricity if she didn’t have to heat the entire house twenty-four-seven during the colder months.

  They went up the stairs into the big bedroom up there. It was as large as the two downstairs. It had dressers and cabinets with a wide closet and there was a bathroom facing the woods to the west.

  Like most buildings in this part of the US, there was no central air conditioning, but there were ceiling fans in the kitchen and master bedroom and the windows could be opened to catch the breeze off the mountains and lake.

  Once they were back downstairs, the realtor turned to Cam.

  “This property has quite a history if that means anything to you,” the realtor started to say.

  “Are there ghosts here?” Cam asked with trepidation.

  The realtor smiled. “No. Not that we know of, but this was one of the transit spots during the Vietnam War.” The realtor smiled. “The previous owner was quite political. He was more than happy to provide help to those young men and women. Soldiers and war resisters would come here to visit, and then go out for a walk in the woods, never to be seen again until the amnesty was granted by President Carter. When Mr. Whitburn was moving out, his son found quite a few uniforms stashed in an upstairs closet.”

  Almost half of the over one-hundred-and-twenty-five thousand men and women who took this trip through the thousands of entry ports like this remained in Canada. There is even an entire community of war resisters in British Columbia.”

  “That shouldn’t be a problem,” Cam said with a smile. “I was active a bit in that myself. No wonder this house feels safe to me.”

  The three chuckled together.

  “And all the furniture is included?” she asked to make sure.

  “Yes. The only things you may want to replace are the mattresses. I think the ones in the two small bedrooms have been here quite a while. I believe the children moved out at least twenty-five years ago. I’m not sure how long the one in the master bedroom has been there. The asking price seems high, I know, and there are some repairs that need to be made, but with all the furniture included, that saves you a lot of money.”

  “What repairs?” Cam asked.

  “The outside will need a new coat of paint soon and the caulking around the eaves should be double checked. You may want to refinish the floors here on the first floor, but that’s not an immediate necessity. I’d suggest you have the chimney swept before next winter sets in. The water heater and the furnace are only about fifteen years old, so they should last you a while. The warrantee papers are in the kitchen. The stove, washer, and dryer are less than ten years old. I believe they bought them just before Mrs. Whitburn passed. That was five years ago. I haven’t seen any evidence of wood rot or termites, but it should be inspected. I can have that done for you this week.”

  Cam turned to Michael. “Sixteen acres, a furnished three-bedroom house with two baths, a two-car garage, and a tool shed on lake-front property with a dock.” She looked at Michael with a question in her eyes.

  “I think it sounds great, but it’s your decision,” she said.

  Cam took a deep breath. “Okay,” she decided. “I’d like to buy it. The asking price is fine. When can I close?”

  “Will you need financing?” the realtor asked.

  “No,” Cam said, “I’ll pay cash.”

  The realtor looked surprised and smiled. “I’ll have all the papers drawn up. We can sign next Friday if you want.”

  “If I give you a down-payment, might we move in here tonight?”

  The realtor smiled even wider. “Of course.”

  Cam looked at Michael. “It will save us having to drive all the way back to Montreal and then come back out here in the morning.”

  “In fact,” the realtor continued, “if you’re here, I can bring all the paperwork here to you as soon as it’s prepared. It’s closer for me to come here then having you go all the way into Newport.”

  “That will be wonderful. Thank you.” Cam reached into her shoulder bag and withdrew her checkbook.

  “Will twenty percent be enough?” she asked.

  “Twenty percent will be fine.”

  “This is contingent on the results of the inspections,” Cam reminded her.

  The realtor nodded. “Of course. I’ll get the inspector here this week.”

  Cam wrote out the check and gave it to her. In turn, the realtor handed Cam a set of keys.

  “Congratulations, Ms. Andrews.”

  “Is there a cleaning service near here that can go through this place?”

  “Not a service, per se,” the realtor answered, “but there are several women around here that do house cleaning.
I’ll bring you a list.”

  “Rather than that,” Cam started, “you know them better than I do. Could you please have one contact me. I’d like to get it done soon.”

  “All right, I’ll do that,” the realtor promised.

  Cam reached out to shake hands.

  “I hope you’ll be happy here.”

  “I’m sure I will be.”

  The realtor nodded to Cam and Michael, turned, and left.

  “You didn’t tell me you were a war resister,” Michael said.

  “I went to school in Cambridge, Massachusetts; one of the main homes of the SDS: The Students for a Democratic Society. You couldn’t go to Harvard or Radcliffe and not be against the war. I wasn’t that active, but I attended sit-ins and rallies and I drove a friend up here once.”

  Whenever Cam thought of that situation, she wondered what had happened to her friend Bill. Cam would never forget that Friday night.

  Chapter 2

  Harvard Square, Cambridge, Massachusetts

  Twenty-five years earlier.

  Janis was a close friend from Radcliffe. She and her boyfriend Jessie went out with Cam on the weekends to break up the boredom of their studies. They’d been sitting in a little coffee shop near Harvard Yard having a small meal and a few drinks when she saw him. The face looked very familiar, as he stood at the bar of the café. She’d know those eyes anywhere. Even though the chin was hidden behind a few days’ growth and the curly hair was a lot shorter, no one could disguise the eyes or the way he slumped forward when he stood. His clothes looked shabby. It looked like he had been sleeping in the streets.

  “Hold on for a moment,” she said to her friends as she stood up. “I’ll be right back.”

  Cam walked to the counter where he was standing, trying to decide what to order.

  “Bill?” she said, tentatively, “Bill Temple?”

  When he turned, she was sure it was him. They’d dated in high school. He was from Concord, Mass, the town next to her hometown; Lexington. They had met through friends at a school dance. They’d had good times together but it had never come to anything. They had split up as friends.