Other than Granddad’s missing book research, this was the biggest clue I had to work from. And it wasn’t much. I had the name of Shannon Miller, a four-year-old who died along with her entire family in a plane crash off the coast of Chincoteague Island in 1959. I’d been able to find a couple of old newspaper articles online about the crash that had been digitized by the Chincoteague Historical Society. The reports said that the pilot, a man by the name of Daniel Miller, was flying his family to Wilmington Beach, North Carolina, when the plane crashed. All five family members were killed. Investigators were not sure of the exact cause of the crash, but the theory was that Daniel lost consciousness while flying the single-engine Piper PA-32, and the plane dove into the Atlantic Ocean. Listed among the dead were Daniel Miller, thirty-eight, his wife, Robin Miller, thirty-six, and their three children, Eric Miller, ten, Joseph Miller, eight, and Shannon Miller, four.
While it was certainly a tragic story, I didn’t know what this plane crash from sixty-plus years ago had to do with my grandfather. Why would Granddad have been looking into an aviation accident that happened when he was just a teenager? My only thought was that perhaps Granddad had been planning to include this family in his Lonely Dead book. But that didn’t seem to fit either. How could five people die and have no one to bury them? Also, why did Flick specifically tell me to remember the name Shannon Miller? I needed to find more information on this family and its connection, if any, to my grandfather.
3. Doodle
I’d found a piece of yellow legal pad paper in the file upon which there was a hand-drawn doodle of two hands cupped together. It looked familiar to me—almost like the logo for that insurance company, but the hands were wider, the fingers spread farther apart, almost as if they were reaching out to grasp something. Flick had circled the drawing and taken the time to put it in the file, so even though I had no idea what possible significance this might have, I put it on the list anyway.
Close to midnight, I set my notebook aside, no more enlightened than I’d been when I’d sat down. I’d asked a few questions but uncovered no answers. And even worse, I had no ideas about how to get any answers. Had Flick and Granddad started out with these same questions? Was that the reason they were both dead? Was I now heading down the same path that had led two of the most important men in my life to their deaths? If I was being honest, I knew that I probably was. Surprisingly, while there was definitely a part of me that was scared, most of me just felt angry. I would not—could not—allow whoever committed these crimes to get away with it. They’d taken too much from me. So, as scared and lonely and overwhelmed as I felt, I knew I had to keep chasing the answers to my questions. No matter where that chase might lead.
Daily Astrological Forecast
Scorpio
Saturn is at odds with Neptune today, stoking the fires of controversy and combat. This energy may bring an old enemy or issue back into your orbit. Proceed with caution. Emotions can run high, especially when you feel threatened. And while you are generally easygoing, as a Scorpio you are capable of a distinctive venomous sting. Like your celestial spirit animal, you prefer to lie in wait and strike when least expected.
Remember to slow down, dear Scorpion. Life is a game of chess and you are continually plotting to score the eventual checkmate you so desire. As Mars enters analytical Virgo, today is a good day to survey the chessboard. Work on your patience. The time to make your move is coming soon.
Tonight: Take your taste buds on a culinary odyssey! Consider trying the cuisine of Southeast Asia!
CHAPTER 7
Acting Sheriff Carl Haight was in a foul mood when I arrived at his office the next morning to get his reaction to Skipper Hazelrigg’s declaration of intent to run against him for Tuttle County Sheriff in the upcoming election.
“How do you think I feel about it, Riley?”
I’d known Carl Haight since preschool and had rarely heard him snap like that. “Um, you know I’m interviewing you for the paper, right? Do you really want me to use that quote?”
“No,” he said, the word coming out with a sigh. Carl took off his hat, ran a hand through his red hair, and then placed it back on his head. “My official answer is that I hope the people of Tuttle County will look at my record of service, my dedication to this town and this county, and give me the privilege to continue to serve and protect as I’ve done for the past six months as acting sheriff and as a deputy for the three years before that.”
“Better.” I quickly scribbled the quote down in my notepad, word for word.
“Coffee?” He motioned to the single-serve machine that sat on the credenza behind his desk. I nodded and he dropped a pod into the machine and pressed start.
“You doing okay, Carl?”
He shot me a look from under the brim of his hat.
“Just asking as your friend now.”
I knew he was hoping to run uncontested for the position of sheriff, especially since he’d stepped in after Tackett’s arrest and handled some very high-profile cases in his short time as acting sheriff. When Skipper Hazelrigg, Tuttle County native and former Virginia Big Buck bowhunting contest winner, decided to challenge him, it didn’t surprise me that Carl would be upset. Or worried. Skipper owned a company that manufactured firearms components and accessories that worked mostly with law enforcement agencies and the military. A few years ago, he made a run for Virginia State representative for district sixty-two. He ran against incumbent Hope Lauder and lost by a narrow margin.
A lifelong Tuttle County resident, Skipper had always been an active member of our community, often monopolizing town council meetings to complain about the things he felt were not being done correctly. Everyone knew he’d been itching to get into politics, and after his loss at the state level, I guess he saw this sheriff’s race as a good place to start.
“Hazelrigg is a good man,” Carl said. “And he’s an accomplished businessman. I just don’t think he’s the right person for this job—and I’m not just saying that because he’s my opponent.”
I actually believed him. Carl may have been overly officious at times, but he did not suffer from a big ego. If anything, it was the opposite. That was one of the areas in which Carl and I connected. We were both relatively new in our respective positions, and as the next generation of Tuttle County, we often felt slightly in over our depth. It was that intermittent sense of inadequacy that fueled both of us to try harder, work longer, and be more thorough than other people.
“Have you spoken to him since he officially entered the race?”
Carl nodded. “He came by my office on his way to file his paperwork. He said he wanted to tell me in person.”
“That was nice.”
Carl shrugged. “He also said he thinks Tuttle County is headed in the wrong direction and needs a ‘stronger hand’ in order to deal with the recent rise in criminal activity.”
“Was he suggesting that was your fault?”
“He didn’t say that exactly, but I got the feeling that’s what he meant. He implied that because I’m young, I’m not equipped to handle the kind of challenges we’re facing as a community.”