The Secrets of Matagorda Bay
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About this ebook
Sharon O’Shea
Sharon O’Shea, a native of Southern California who is now living near Austin, Texas, earned her BA degree from Vanguard University and her MS degree from the University of North Texas. She writes as an avenue to support the creation of Merry Heart Ministries, a healing and recovery center for victims of female abuse.
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The Secrets of Matagorda Bay - Sharon O’Shea
Copyright © 2014 Sharon O’Shea.
All rights reserved. Scanning, uploading, or electronic sharing without the permission of the author is unlawful and considered theft of the author’s intellectual property.
If you would like to use material from any work by Sharon O’Shea,
please contact her at:
Sharon O’Shea, MS
Merry Heart Ministries
P.O. Box 1426
Elgin, TX 78621
This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, names, incidents, organizations, and dialogue in this novel are either the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
iUniverse books may be ordered through booksellers or by contacting:
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Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.
Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.
Certain stock imagery © Thinkstock.
ISBN: 978-1-4917-3110-9 (sc)
ISBN: 978-1-4917-3111-6 (e)
Library of Congress Control Number: 2014906574
iUniverse rev. date: 04/23/2014
Contents
Dedication
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Other Books by Sharon O’Shea
Female Victimization Issues
Thank you
to those who have been supportive of this endeavor
and to those who have reviewed and proofed the drafts of this book.
In the end, however, this is a self-edited, self-published book.
Therefore, all errors are the sole responsibility of the author.
Comments, corrections and critiques
may be addressed to the author.
Dedication
To everyone who has ever helped me in any way
along life’s journey.
A portion of the sale of this book goes toward
the creation and support of Merry Heart Ministries,
a healing and recovery center for abused women.
Cover artwork, maps, and the painting of the author were created by:
Elizabeth Sullivan
Wild Spirit Artworks
www.ecsullivanart.com
Effort was made to correctly credit all sources
of quotations within this book.
All artwork was used with permission.
Prologue
Abegael’s Song
Come meet me where the sand meets the sea;
Come meet me and I will tell you what happened to me.
Come help me; set me free.
I will explain how the devil took my life.
I will tell you how he cut me, cut me deep with his knife.
Come help me; set me free from this half-life.
I will show you my scars, twenty-three in all.
I will take you to the place where he shoved me through the portal.
Come help me; set me free from this hell.
Now I’m not in Heaven, nor am I in Hell,
I am caught between dimensions, until you break the spell.
Come help me; set me free from this hell.
The spell that befell me on that long ago night.
The spell that entrapped me in this horror—this plight.
Come help me; set me free; let my spirit take flight.
Meet me now down at the sea. Meet me now at the dock.
I await your coming. Join me now at the dock.
Come help me; set me free at the dock.
Graphic1USwithcars.jpgMap of the United States
Chapter One
Tuesday, September 17, 2013
8:17 a.m.
Austin, TX
Missing? What do you mean ‘Katherine is missing’?
I sighed and glanced toward the ceiling. Too late I looked at the caller ID. When will I learn to check who’s calling before I pick up?
While Joe talked, I tossed the silver spoon into the sink. It clanked angrily.
I inhaled, turned, then paced to the diningroom window overlooking our backyard. Even in mid-September, the Knockout rose bushes were heavy-laden with red and pink blossoms that swayed in the strong Texas wind. A pair of doves flew onto the edge of the bird bath–one bathed while the other drank.
The area behind my left eye began to ache when Joe said, Crystal, you have to come down to the Gulf and help us search for Katherine.
Joe,
I interrupted. "I do not ‘have’ to do anything. Now, slow down and tell me what Katherine did, with whom, and why you think she’s ‘missing’."
Oh, sorry, Crystal. Okay,
Joe hastily added.
You know it’s not uncommon for Katherine to do risky things, or to take off unannounced. Right?
I said.
While I listened to Joe’s baritone voice, I bit my lip and put a cup of cold coffee in the microwave. The leaves on our towering Chinese Tallow tree swayed in the breeze as Joe Lombardi continued with an explanation that I knew would lead to another request that I join him in his search. The muscles in my neck and back tightened.
Joe talked about Katherine’s disappearance, how she had been leading her class of graduate archeology and geology students to the Texas Gulf Coast when she disappeared around the Port O’Connor, Palacios area.
I glanced back at the phone charger, sorrier by the minute that I’d picked up. My face turned even redder when Joe returned to the reason he called. "So you can see, Crystal, why you’ve got to come to the Gulf and join the search for Katherine. You’ve … you’ve … well, you’ve got to help. This situation calls for your special abilities."
‘Special abilities?’
I said. I like you Joe, but I won’t drop everything and arrange for people to cover my college and private classes to join you. You’ve called the wrong person for help. I need to get off the phone.
The headache intensified.
I imagined Joe, normally so calm and in control of both himself and his unit at Homeland Security, losing his patience. You can’t mean that, Crystal. I thought you were Katherine’s friend. Besides, if anyone could—
"Joe. Let me clarify what’s happening here. Are you asking to hire me to help you locate Katherine? Or what?"
Well … I thought you’d want to help,
Joe said.
I don’t,
I replied. Besides, she’s probably just taken off on one of her spontaneous explorations. It wouldn’t be the first time. What’s her motto? ‘I laugh in the face of danger’? At any rate, I need to hang up now.
A loud, exaggerated breath at the other end of the line was followed by a loud, slow exhale.
I bit my upper lip again, something I hadn’t done since my trip to Sedona two years ago.
Crystal, this is an emergency,
Joe finally said.
"It might be an emergency for you, but it’s not an emergency for me, I said.
Besides, with your credentials and network, well, I’m sure if Katherine is in danger you can get whatever help is needed to find her."
But—
Joe started.
There are no ‘buts’ here, Joe,
I said.
Joe was silent.
I took a long, slow sip of my lukewarm coffee, and waited. I walked to the table and set my rose-colored cup alongside the presentation I had been working on when Joe called. Then I thought of all the work I still needed to do before my paper was ready to be presented. My jaw tightened.
I assumed you knew Katherine was on a field trip to the Texas Gulf area to research La Salle’s ship, LaBelle, and also to do geology research. They were scheduled to spend the bulk of the semester visiting museums and conducting field work. Some students are camped on the beach at Port O’Connor. Others are staying at various motels in Palacios, and some are at motels in other towns. They have scattered since Katherine disappeared. All of them were to meet in Palacios last Friday, work on their assignments, review research projects, and report on their progress. Everyone reported in. Everyone except Katherine.
How long have you and Katherine been dating?
I asked.
What? Why?
he asked.
How long?
I repeated.
Another long, loud sigh was followed by, About two years, Crystal. You knew that, didn’t you? Ever since we met in Sedona.
Then you know Katherine pretty well, right? She’s unpredictable. She loves danger and intrigue. She loves to live on the edge. She’s a mega-risk-taker. You know all this, right?
Well …
Joe let his response trail off.
Right?
I repeated.
Okay. Right. But now she’s missing, Crystal, and I need your help to find her,
Joe shouted into the phone.
I doubt that she’s really ‘missing,’
I said softly. It’s probably more like she’s off on an adventure.
I’d feel so much better if you were here, Crystal,
Joe said.
I walked over and gazed at the impressionistic print of Angel of Love by Sharae Taylor, and said to Joe, This sounds like vintage Katherine to me. Besides, what you might not know, Joe, is that Katherine and I went into business together after Sedona—mineral spheres. I was to purchase them; Katherine was to sell them. I asked her ten times if she were certain she wanted to sell them. She assured me she was. Then, after I’d invested thousands of dollars and hundreds of hours, she changed her mind and left me with the bill for the spheres.
Oh. I didn’t know,
Joe said.
That’s what I assumed,
I said. "As if that weren’t bad enough, she called a few months later, said she’d inherited a small fortune, and invited me on an all expenses paid trip to Europe. I thought it was her way of apologizing for both Sedona and ducking out of the business. I accepted, and arranged for others to conduct my college and private classes. That cost me thousands more dollars, of course. The week before our scheduled departure, she called and canceled. The reason? She said she was premature in inviting me and, bluntly, she didn’t want to spend the money on me, after all. I was shocked. I shouldn’t have been, but I was. A curtain fell down between us that day. I told her not to contact me again, and I meant it."
I didn’t know about all of that,
Joe said in a low voice.
I assumed you didn’t know or you wouldn’t have called me,
I said. So, to restate, I’m not rearranging my schedule to drive to the coast,
I said. Besides, you still haven’t answered my question. Is it your intention to hire me, or what?
Do you know where Matagorda Bay is?
Joe asked. Or Palacios?
Yes, Joe, I’ve been to Bay City, Matagorda, and Palacios. Palacios is a small fishing town that’s become a vacation and tourist destination, located on Matagorda Bay on the Gulf Coast. But I’m not going there this month, or any other month, because of Katherine’s antics.
Silence on the other end of the line let me know Joe fought to find another argument to persuade me to join the search.
I continued, You’ve contacted local law enforcement, I’m sure, so you’re in touch with the Matagorda County Sheriff’s Department and, I assume, Search and Rescue, right? You’ve interviewed her students. You’re personally searching the area. I don’t understand what possible value you think I would be in this situation. And, I repeat, I don’t think Katherine is in any danger. Most probably she’s just being Katherine.
You can do whatever it is you did in Sedona,
Joe said.
I’m not a professional psychic,
I said, I can put you in touch with a couple of really excellent Intuitives and Psychics, if that’s what you’d like.
The area behind my left eye pounded, warning a full-blown migraine was on the way. "They’re expensive—well-trained, highly respected, worth the cost. As for me, I’m unavailable. I’ve been living in Texas for a while now, so I do have some tips that might help you navigate while you’re there, if you’re interested.
Sure,
Joe said.
"First, when I was in Matagorda I learned the word Matagorda means ‘thick shrubs.’ Much has changed, and a lot of the shrubs have been cleared, but that will give you a clue about how to dress if you leave the town and go out into the surrounding countryside.
"Second, Palacios is not given the Spanish pronunciation by