by Tom Soule
"Success is how high you bounce when hit bottom"- George S. Patton.
Sarah wondered how she would feel if and when she finally hit rock bottom. Certainly, she was not there yet. Was Carla? Was that why she chose not to speak? As far as Sarah was concerned, the old librarian was the most successful person she'd ever met.
Charged with inspiration, Sarah opened her word processor and created a banner to honor Michelle's life. She included a message reminding people that Michelle valued honesty above else in her relationships with other people. She saved the banner and printed a hundred copies. Then she pulled out a copy of the town phone book and searched the listings for the Flintstone Gazette. She found it quickly and called the senior editor direct line from her cell phone.
"Flintstone Gazette," the voice on the other end of the line said. "How may I help you?"
"Good afternoon sir, my name is Sarah. I'm a student at Flintstone High. I wanted to write a piece about Michelle, the woman who was killed last week."
There was a brief pause, and Sarah knew it was an opportunity to explain her reason for writing the piece. She decided not to give him a chance to explain away why she couldn't write something for him.
"I know you probably have already assigned someone, sir. I'd just like to write a follow-up piece."
"About what exactly? No one wants to get too deep on that one. I have gotten direct cease and desist orders from Michelle's family, the police department, and the Mayor's office."
"So, you're not interested?" Sarah asked sadly.
"Not at this time. Maybe things will change sometime in the future."
It was a lie, and Sarah knew it. But she politely ended the call. She hadn't expected the editor to publish a story she wanted to write.
Sarah returned downstairs for her shoes. This time she carried her backpack with her. Inside the backpack were the hundred banners she'd printed on her word processor. She'd spend the next two hours placing the signs on light poles and on every corner if she had to.
******
Betsy Johnson, the sister of Michelle's late husband, sat alone in her master bedroom, picking at her chipped nails. She still grieved her brother who died so long ago. She often felt like she was competing with Michelle over her late brother's affections. After his death; Michelle and Betsy were no longer close.
However, things have changed greatly for Betsy she saw an opportunity and took it. Betsy didn't want anyone else figuring out the real truth. She convinced most of Michelle's family to not investigate further as well. It was better to respect Michelle's wishes. It would work out better for everyone that way.
But of course, the girl who thought of herself as Michelle's closest friend wouldn't leave anything alone. She would pry away until she picked apart every layer of Michelle's life. In the end, the family name would be reduced to ruin. The painful truth would come to light and rip through the town like a tornado, destroying everyone and everything in its path.
Why couldn't Sarah understand that?
It was only a matter of time before the girl showed up with questions. Betsy vowed to explain to the child only once that no answers would be given, and that the family—and the town—wanted to leave the matter alone.
After that, it was a matter for Chief Robertson and his men. If need be, they wouldn't put up with Sarah's behavior and would take disciplinary action. Such a shy girl would only stand up to so much resistance.
Betsy got up from the couch in the bedroom and walked downstairs to the kitchen. She prepared herself a cup of tea, then gave Chief Robertson a call at the police station.
She wanted him to be ready to arrest Sarah if all else failed.
CHAPTER FOUR
The two hours Sarah spent running around town conducting interviews and putting up signs had been invigorating, but frustrating. No matter where she went, no one was interested in talking about Michelle's murder. Most people ignored her, and some even glared at her as she approached. Sarah was deeply saddened.
The restaurant was open, however. As Sarah approached Pluto's Pizzeria for the first time since yesterday evening, her heart quickly filled with dread. It was too quiet here, very few employees. Absolutely no customers. Sarah rested her bike beside a sign in front of the store and read it in despair.
SORRY FOLKS, PLUTO'S IS CLOSING
THANKS FOR SUCH A GREAT TIME ALL THOSE YEARS!!
Sarah's mind raced, and immediately the inspiration returned. At this point, she had more than enough reason to believe Michelle's business was connected to the murder. She had been poisoned by one of her pizzas, after all. But if no one would talk, then what could she do?
Sarah approached the cash register and ordered a couple of slices. Joshua was the man behind the register again.
"How have you been, Joshua?" she asked.
"Been okay," he said with a small smile. The grin wasn't real but forced. Joshua rarely smiled. In fact, he almost always had a plain but pleasant expression on his face. Nothing else.
Sarah made a mental note to remember that there could be plenty of people like her who wanted to pitch in for the investigation but had been talked down just as she had.
Joshua returned with her plate a few minutes later. Immediately, Sarah noticed that the pizza looked significantly different from the pizza she was used to eating. These slices looked bland and dry, as opposed to Pluto's fresh, mouth-watering pepperoni and sausage pizzas. She asked Joshua if there had been a change.
"Not that I know of. Michelle wasn't always the one cooking back there. But we always used her recipes."
Sarah nodded slowly. "Okay, thanks, Joshua." She took her plate back to the table. She chose the same seat that she'd chosen the night before. She placed herself in the scene with Bridget and her cheerleader friends. Sarah shut her eyes and placed her hands over her ears, struggling to recall any little detail that could point her in the right direction. She tried for 15 minutes to no avail. Opening her eyes, Sarah realized her food was getting cold. She picked up a slice and bit into it. Oddly, the pizza wasn't too bad.
Sarah looked outside the window as she ate. The temperatures were expected to get as high as 75 today, though Sarah predicted otherwise. She could hear the loud hums of lawnmowers in the distance. She had hardly seen anyone outside during her bike rides. Were most people out of town or simply sitting at home? It was as if the town of Flintstone had ceased to exist after Michelle's murder.
Sarah spotted movement in the corner of her eyes. She turned and saw Joshua approaching her from behind. He smiled at her briefly, then placed a small note on the table in front of her. Sarah's eyes widened as she recognized the stationery. The same kind that Carla used.
She read the message on the paper.
BETTER INGREDIENTS. BETTER PIZZA...
Sarah burst into laughter, drawing strange looks from the few employees who worked at the restaurant. And Joshua himself suddenly seemed afraid of her. He raised his hands and backed away silently.
"I didn't mean anything, Joshua," Sarah pleaded. "It's just an inside joke, that's all."
"Apparently so," he called over his shoulder. "That librarian left that here for you."
Sarah understood why. She understood why she had laughed so hard too. She'd seen a television commercial that used that slogan to advertise its pizza. Clara and Sarah had laughed, as they were sure that no pizza on Earth could have been better than Michelle's. Clara hadn't said a single word, of course.
Sarah removed her notebook from her backpack and jotted down some notes. She made a list of questions. Was Michelle killed for her business? Did her food have some amazing ingredients that a rival business owner wanted to steal and make as their own unique recipe?
It certainly could have gotten her killed. Over the last six months, Pluto's Pizzeria had begun catering and distribution services. Some of their foods were eaten in households on the other side of the country.
Sarah had a new lead. A real one. Because the food in front of her tasted just as good as th
e pizza, Michelle had always served. But it looked so different. She needed to investigate this new lead. But there weren't any other pizza parlors in town. She had no way of knowing whether or not another business was coming in and taking over. But maybe Michelle had. Maybe she had written about it in that private journal Chief Robertson had mentioned. Maybe she had made a business mistake she'd regretted, and that's why she didn't want anyone looking too deeply into her death. Michelle didn't want to be remembered as a failure. Sarah jotted down more notes. Then she thought to herself, "If I find out the truth, everyone will see me as a true hero." She promised herself again that she wouldn't let her down.
Finally, she threw her plate into the garbage can, waved goodbye to Joshua, and left the restaurant. It was five o'clock in the afternoon now. As much as she wanted to keep going forward, Sarah realized that she needed to get a grip on her surroundings before continuing. Because the only way to proceed was to go in a direction she didn't want to take.
She took a different route home this time, stopping here and there to see if anyone wanted to speak with her. Sarah opted for a different approach. Perhaps if she could make people see that she wasn't overly invested, then maybe they'd be more willing to cooperate.
The plan worked. A neighbor who lived on the same street wanted to share his thoughts. Before long, Sarah was able to get an engaging conversation going. A half-dozen more neighbors joined the discussion. But that was all, no more. In the end, Sarah had learned nothing much useful. But it felt good to know that people truly did care. For some reason, they were convinced that silence and passivity was the best approach.
Sarah returned home. It would be the last time she would leave the house while the sun was still shining. The house was packed now, with Justin ranting in the living room about his tough touchdown passes and all the beautiful girls he had talked to after the game. Sarah rolled her eyes, ignored everyone, and walked upstairs to her room. She locked the door once again, knowing it was only a matter of time before her parents wanted to talk.
Only ten minutes passed before she heard the soft knocking of her father's thin hands at her door. "Sarah, honey, can your mother and I have a word with you please?"
Sarah considered saying no but decided that would be going too far. She couldn't let people get the impression she was losing her mind. The consequences for that would be far too severe. Already her parents were worried, as were many residents of Flintstone, most likely.
She opened the door. Her father stood tall in the doorway. She could smell the cologne on his clothing, and his hair was neatly combed. Her father must have gone out somewhere while she'd been gone.
"Are you wondering where I've been?" her father asked as if he were reading her mind.
"I guess so, Dad."
"Your mother and I went to your brother's game. We didn't get to see you there."
"That's because I didn't want to go. I have important things to do."
"Sarah, enough, okay? I know how obsessed you're starting to become with Michelle's death. I know it's early, but you've got to move on, honey. And your family should be a priority."
Really? Sarah couldn't believe what she was hearing. Her family's emotions could be identified using basic emoticons the kids at school used in their text messages. Happy, sad, disappointed, angry. It all felt like an act. As much as she loved her parents, it was time to finally stand her ground.
She looked her father in the eye. He raised a single eyebrow.
"Dad, I'm going to do everything I can to protect Michelle's reputation and to keep her family from being hurt. But I am not giving up on this. I knew Michelle."
"We all knew her?"
"Yes. But I knew a side of her no one else got to know, a side that was so much like me. No one gets to know that side of people because it's so different from what everyone else in this town acts like."
For the first time ever, Sarah noticed a different kind of expression on her father's face: a sign of regret that he hadn't gotten to know his daughter as much as he should have. A sign of appreciation and respect to see that his daughter was investing so much of her energy into doing what she thought was right. And the look of pain when he realized that no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't support her actions.
"Sarah, honey, your mother and I strongly urge you to reconsider the route you're taking. After Michelle's memorial service and funeral tomorrow, no one will want to be deeply involved in this. I don't want you to end up getting hurt."
Sarah's eyes widened. "Why would I get hurt, Dad?"
Her father sat beside her and rested his hand on her knee. "Not all pain is physical, Sarah. And I know what it's like when someone is hurting inside. Please take care of yourself, okay, sweetie?"
Sarah knew how much this was hurting him. So reluctantly, she agreed to disagree. "I promise I'll take care of myself if you promise not to hold me back on this."
He promised. But even as her Dad walked away, Sarah knew he wasn't so confident about her well-being now. He would continue checking up on her. She was running out of time to learn the truth.
Sarah couldn't sleep that night. There was still too much to do in regards to finding out who killed Michelle and why. More importantly, she'd worked up so many new leads in her head—and her notebook—. The more time she waited and did nothing, the harder it would be to find the truth.
So even though her curfew was 1:00 am on the weekends—and it was after two now—she decided to sneak out of the house. Sarah's heart thumped in her chest so loud she was confident her parents and brother could hear it even in their sleep. She changed into a pair of black sweatpants and a navy-blue T-shirt. She wore her black and white jogging shoes and brought along a pair of gloves just in case it happened to get too cold that morning. Then she placed her mini notebook into her back pocket and tucked her mini flashlight into a front pocket.
She stopped and listened for signs that someone else in the household had awakened. Confident that her actions had gone undetected, Sarah walked over to the window sill and gently lifted the frame. She popped out the screen with two hands and climbed out onto the roof. Finally, she reached around and dropped the window sill closed.
Quietly, cautiously, Sarah climbed onto the nearby oak tree in the front yard. She carefully dropped to the ground, unchained her bike, and rode away into the night.
CHAPTER FIVE
The night was calm and still. There wasn't much wind at all. The skies were clear, and Sarah looked up with teary eyes at the beautiful stars. With no traffic on the road and nothing to worry about, she'd dazed off into a daydream even though she was riding a bicycle. She remembered the day she'd first met Michelle, and the two had become friends.
Sarah blinked hard a few times and fought back the tears. The bike ride to the South side of Flintstone lasted 20 minutes. Sarah rarely made it over to these neighborhoods. The families that lived here were among the richest in Flintstone, maybe even the state. Even those wealthy children went to an entirely different school district.
The road Sarah traveled was dangerous. If something went wrong—which was a real possibility—she could get into serious trouble. Her parents and everyone else would actively obstruct her path from that point forward. Or worse, everything would be ruined, and she might not learn anything at all.
In the end, Sarah didn't back down. She made it to Michelle's house around half past 2 am. Quietly, she rested her bike behind a parked car. It wouldn't remain hidden for long if someone looked hard enough. Then without thinking, Sarah crept to the back of the house, hopped the fence, and entered the backyard.
The yard was much larger than the one at her parents' house. In addition to the swing set and fish pond, there was also a large shed perched against the tall fence. And just as Sarah expected, the lock on the shed was open. They were working together even though she was gone.
If Michelle hadn't kept the original copy of her personal diary inside the shed, chances are there was something close to it that would at leas
t point Sarah in the right direction.
Sarah crouched and stayed low as she hurried towards the shed. She felt as if she were a criminal. If only people could understand this had to be done, she might not feel so guilty. Sarah looked around the yard and back towards the house. No one was watching her. Then she opened the shed door and stepped inside. Removing her flashlight from her pocket, she flicked it on. Sarah's eyes widened with shock. She shone the light in every corner of the shed, searching every inch of her surroundings. The shed was completely empty.
Had the family already destroyed Michelle's private diary?
Completely empty except for a small note. Had Clara been here? Sarah made another mental note, this time to be sure to visit the library Monday evening after school and spend some time with her friend. Then she reached down and picked up the paper. Sarah shined the light on the stationery and read it.
things just aren't as they seem.
No quote this time. Anyone could have come up with this one. But the words filled Sarah's heart with fear. She was being fooled. There was more going on than she thought and she had been right all along.
Suddenly, a floodlight turned on from the house. The darkness lit up with red and blue lights, just like the ones Sarah had seen the previous night. Sarah ducked and peeked her head around the shed's entrance. She could see Officer Morton's police car parked in front of the house. She could hear his radio chirping out sounds, and voices coming from somewhere near the front entrance.
Someone had called the police. Sarah didn't realize that family was staying at Michelle's house. Perhaps she'd seen or heard her slipping into the backyard. In any case, Officer Morton and his partner walked towards the back fence, stepped over the gate, and began walking directly towards her.
Sarah panicked as she realized there was no way out. Officer Morton was already shining his flashlight at the shed. He would see her if she tried to run away. And he was too close for her to escape anyway. Her heart aching, Sarah quietly retreated to the back of the shed and waited to be arrested.
