“The chief seems to think they wouldn’t have experienced too much pain. He thinks they likely passed out from the smoke before waking up, and then they—” Sara couldn’t bring herself to finish the sentence.
Sean reached for her hand.
“Are you going to look into it?” her mother asked.
“What do you mean?” Sara caught Sean glancing at her.
“It’s just that you two, well, you have a gift. Don’t think I don’t know how you keep busy. A mother knows everything.”
“Well, not everything,” her dad said.
“Leon.” His name was accompanied by a subtle warning look.
He was indifferent to her reaction and coolly sipped on his drink. He lifted his glass toward Sean. “What do you think?”
“Good brand. Let me guess, Glenlivet?”
“You got it. No fooling you.”
Sara smiled, feeling wistful that her father and husband were carrying on with small talk, but then her mind raced back to her mother’s inquiry. Were they going to look into it? Was there anything to look into? She couldn’t tell her mother they visited the chief for further answers or it would make their involvement a foregone conclusion. Was it? Still, with the last two investigations being more personal in nature, was she really wanting to dig into another one?
“For what it matters, sweetheart, I trust you both to do the right thing. But enough about that horrible incident. First, let’s send love to their family and then let us toast to a bright future. It’s the Christmas parade this weekend. That should be fun.”
Her mother raised her glass and the rest followed suit. Sara did so automatically, but her mind was far removed from the distraction of promised merriment and twinkling lights. She recalled the Wilsons’ warm smiles when they’d met. There was no choice—unless she was satisfied that their deaths were an accident, the result of circumstance, she couldn’t turn away.
-
Chapter 6
“DO YOU HEAR WHAT I HEAR”
SEAN HAD PICKED UP ON the faraway glaze in Sara’s eyes when they were at her parents’ house. She wanted resolution when it came to the Wilsons’ deaths. Even he wanted to know why, but wasn’t that the question that came with any senseless demise? People naturally want answers, and, as a cop, it was both the most difficult and the most rewarding aspect of the job.
With this situation, a part of him yearned to move on, but until they had real evidence that something suspicious had happened, were they simply bored and looking for something to occupy their time? Were they fabricating a crime that didn’t exist because they didn’t want to accept that sometimes there was no real reason for such tragedy?
“We could always ask Jimmy.”
Sara’s statement cut through his thoughts and seemed to strike him out of the middle of nowhere. She must have said something prior, but he hadn’t heard her—or was she reading his mind? “I’m sorry, darling. What?”
She gave him a knowing smile. “You weren’t listening to me, were you?”
How was he supposed to respond to such a direct inquiry? If he said no, she’d be upset that he wasn’t paying attention to her. If he said yes, she would expect a response. Either way, he was exposed. Honesty would have to lean somewhat in his favor, at least he hoped that turned out to be the case. “I was just thinking, darling. I didn’t hear you.”
“What were you thinking about?”
Maybe he shouldn’t have been quite so forthcoming. Her eyes weren’t going to let him off the hook. “It’s basically what your mother said.”
“About us investigating their deaths?”
“Yeah, that.” He paused, hoping she’d take over the conversation, but she didn’t. “Do you think there’s anything to investigate, or do we just want to assign logic to what happened?”
She bit her bottom lip. “I’m not sure. I mean it’s in our nature to question everything, right? We were cops for how many years? It becomes ingrained.”
He nodded, fearing saying anything in case he said the wrong thing. With their last investigation being earlier in the week, if there was something to look into, was she even up for the task? He didn’t want to be the one pressuring her. An evil part of him realized that perhaps Jeannie had assumed that role and it brought relief.
Sara continued as if she had read his thoughts earlier. “Maybe we’re just wanting the answer to why.”
“I think it’s quite possible.”
Her eyes snapped to his. “But what if—what if there is more to this? No one else is going to find out the truth. As far as anyone else is concerned the fire was an accident. The end.”
“I’m not really sure what we’re supposed to do.”
She put her hand on his. “I would like to express our sympathies to their daughter at least.”
“I understand that fully.”
She sat up straight. “We could always ask Jimmy for her information.”
“We can’t bother him over something like this, darling.” The look in her eyes begged him to reconsider, but until they knew if something suspicious did indeed happen, why bother Jimmy. “Why don’t we see if the obit is up and we’ll go from there?”
His suggestion seemed to be enough to appease her. She was already on the move toward the office. She came back with a laptop and sat where she’d been before.
He watched her click here and there, while thinking that at some point, maybe things would settle down a little—maybe? And if they did, was that really what they wanted? They seemed to attract mysteries that needing solving.
“Yes. Here it is.” She pointed to the screen. “Charlene Davis. Oh, she has children, Sean.” She turned to him. “We have to pay our condolences.”
“We will, darling. When is the funeral?”
“Two days from now.”
The Wilsons must have prepared ahead—it was the only way things could have come together so quickly.
-
Chapter 7
“GOD REST YE MERRY GENTLEMEN”
THE CEREMONY WAS BEING HELD in a funeral home at ten in the morning, and the parking lot was packed when they arrived. It only confirmed what Sara had suspected—the Wilsons were well loved.
Sean opened her door and extended a hand to help Sara out of the car. In her knee-length dress, she was starting to see the impractical nature of the matching vehicles they had chosen. A fleeting thought had her getting a different car for herself and passing hers along—and she knew someone who would graciously accept the offer.
She placed one hand in front of her knees, doing her best to block the view for anyone who might be paying her attention, and she shimmied out of the vehicle.
A man held the building’s door for them and handed them a memorial card. Sara’s thoughts contemplated how fast this had all been arranged. It was only four days ago that the Wilsons had died—and two since Charlene had received notice. It hit her as a sad reminder that everyone was here for only a brief time, and once a person had left, the world continued to spin. She gripped tighter onto Sean’s arm and nodded in response to his silent inquiry if she was ready to go into the main room.
People were gathered about the space, packed along the walls in clusters. This wasn’t the room where the eulogy was being given, but it was going to be delivered in the one adjacent.
Sara surveyed the room and her eyes spotted the Wilsons’ daughter—she was certain of it. Two young children, both under the age of ten, clung to her legs. Everyone was taking their turn speaking with her. Her skin was pale and she was puffy under her eyes.
“I see Charlene.” She tapped Sean’s arm and they headed in her direction.
A man was speaking to her when they approached. He was wearing a gray, knitted sweater with blue snowflakes in the pattern and had a mullet haircut with a rattail.
Sean pointed at it, trying to be as discreet as poss
ible, she was sure, but she winced and placed a gentle hand on his to lower his finger.
Charlene had her hands on her children’s heads. There wasn’t any physical contact between her and the man, in fact, it seemed she kept some distance from him.
“Thank you for your kind words,” Charlene said. Her eyes went from the man to Sara, and he seemed to read the unspoken communication and excused himself.
Sara held out her hand to Charlene, a gesture that should have been sufficient, but somehow it didn’t feel like enough. She put her arms around the woman, even though they’d never met, and found Charlene returned the hug.
“I’m sorry, I should have introduced us first. You are Charlene, the Wilsons’ daughter?” Sara adjusted her purse, feeling awkward over the tender expression she had just imparted on someone who was, essentially, a stranger.
“I am.”
“I’m Sara McKinley, and this is my husband, Sean. I hope we didn’t interrupt.” She jabbed a thumb toward the retreating man.
“Oh no. Don’t worry about that. He was one of my parents’ neighbors.”
“We lived next door to your parents too…well, we still do. Live next to their house, that is—never mind. I’m sorry, my tongue is tied. We wanted to offer our sympathies for your loss.”
Charlene’s eyes glistened with tears. “Thank you. I just keep thinking if only they had stuck to Rudolph’s maybe this wouldn’t have happened.”
“Rudolph’s?
“Yeah, the Christmas decoration shop. Every year Mom and Dad would pay them to take care of everything. This year they just bought some lighting from them.” Her eyes traced down Sara’s dress and then her gaze leveled on Sean. “I’m surprised you haven’t heard of them.”
“We like to do things ourselves,” Sean said.
“Well, this year so did my parents. See how that turned out.” Charlene’s attempt at jesting, had a single tear falling down her cheek. She wiped it away. “I just wish I could understand why, you know?”
“We do.” Sara’s heart was breaking for this woman. She couldn’t imagine losing her parents. There was no way to fit the question in about whether Charlene’s parents had anyone who might not have liked them. Besides, the question would stir up unnecessary pain, and, looking around this room, it confirmed the couple was well loved.
“Who are these two?” Sara indicated the children.
“This is Joey.”
The boy tucked shyly behind his mother. Sara guessed him to be about three.
“And this is Mercedes.”
“Hi.” Mercedes did a finger wave.
“Hello. Our car is a Mercedes.”
The girl curled her lips and swayed her skirt. She had no idea as to the vehicle’s significance. Sara smiled. Wait until she got a little bit older.
Sean rested his hand on the small of Sara’s back—his gentle prodding that it was time to leave. If they stayed much longer it would appear they were monopolizing Charlene’s time.
“Maybe you could stop by sometime, and we could talk about them?” Sara hoped the offer would be accepted as intended—a sincere effort to come to know the neighbors she had lost.
“I’d like that.” Charlene pressed her lips and shook Sean’s hand before they turned to leave.
Sean leaned toward Sara. “Did you see that man with the rattail?”
“Well, the eighties are coming back in style, or so I’ve been told.”
“That, I believe, darling, is taking it a step too far.”
-
Chapter 8
“GRANDMA GOT RUN OVER BY A REINDEER”
“WHAT ARE WE SUPPOSED TO do now? Just go home?” Sara asked from the passenger seat.
“I don’t know what else there is to do.”
She faced him. “If only we could get inside their house, see it for ourselves.”
“You’re suggesting we break into the Wilsons’ house?”
“You make it sound like a horrible thing.”
He pulled into their own driveway. “Well, isn’t it? It was their funeral today and you’re suggesting we bust into their home.”
She didn’t like the way his words made her feel. Disgracing their memory was the furthest thing from her mind.
He waved a hand in the air. “Oh, I’m sorry, darling, I never meant anything by that.” He pulled the car into their garage.
She turned to him before he could get out and took his hands in hers. “What if I told you it would mean a lot to me?”
“To illegally enter a residence?”
“Would you stop? It’s not like we haven’t done it before.”
“True.” He bobbed his head side to side.
“And we haven’t done it in a while.” She figured he was on the line, she might as well reel him in. His eyes glazed over, though, and if she didn’t say something quick, she was going to lose him. “If you do this for me, and we find nothing, I promise I’ll leave it alone.”
“You promise?”
She nodded.
“All we have to do is a little B&E?”
“That’s all. Listen, we can be really quick about it. If everything looks good,” she pinched her lips, made a twisting motion, and then pretended to throw away the key, “I will not say another word about the Wilsons.”
“All right, you almost have a deal.”
“Almost?”
“Uh-huh.”
“Name it.”
“I want to seal our deal.”
“Seal our deal? I can do that.” She leaned across and tapped her lips to his. Remaining less than two inches from his face, she let her gaze fall to his lips and filter back to his eyes. “Consider it sealed.”
“Oh, not quite yet.” He pulled her in for a prolonged kiss.
SEAN CROUCHED AMONG THE TREES between the property lines. “I can’t believe I let you talk me into not only doing this, but doing so in the early afternoon.”
“It will be easy.”
“Easy?” He pointed to a security company’s sedan that was parked in the driveway.
“You’re worried about them? They’re probably asleep from boredom.”
“We’re going to jail.”
“Would you stop being such a scaredy-cat? Jimmy wouldn’t let that happen.”
“And how is he supposed to stop it from happening?”
“Our Jimmy? He can do anything. Listen.”
The engine in the sedan came to life.
“You’ve got to be kidding me.”
She lightly slapped his arm. “See, it’s meant to be.”
“What I wouldn’t do for your kisses.”
“Just my kisses?” She shot him a devilish grin and took off toward the house.
“Where are you going?”
“You should know the answer to that.”
“The security—”
“He’s already to the street. Come on, hurry up, or I’m going to tell you that you move like a girl.”
“Hey.” He caught up to her and grabbed her sides.
She batted her arms at him. “Cut that out, mister.”
They dashed to the house. The broken front window had been boarded up, and black soot marred the brick. The acrid smell of fire lingered, even though it had been a few days.
The thought of entering the residence transported him back to the job, when it was their responsibility to enter scenes where people had died. He had carried out his career with professionalism and detachment. He channeled that experience now, hoping it would get him through this, and dismissed the fact that, in the past, they had authorized access to such premises.
He studied the lock. “I think this will take more than a bobby pin.”
She held one extended, but put it back into her pocket.
“The security system must have been fried in the fir
e or they wouldn’t have the wannabe staked out, watching over things. That should work in our favor.”
“Sean, isn’t that insensitive?”
“Did I say that out loud?” He pretended to assume guilt over his word choice. Back in the day, that was how they’d always referred to security guards. It was almost inbred in him as a cop. Was he to apologize for what still flowed in his bloodstream?
He pulled out a lock-picking kit.
“Sean?”
“Are you impressed?”
“I shouldn’t be, but I am.”
She smiled at him and he got to work jimmying the lock. Less than a minute later they were in.
“Oh, Sean.” Sara covered her mouth with her hand.
The door swung open and they entered into the living room. What remained of the walls had been singed with flame—soot and ash were left in their wake. The tree was mostly consumed, with only a bit of a stump inside the holder. What had likely once been grand ornaments were shattered on the floor. Strands of lights were melted plastic, save a few.
In the aftermath of such physical desolation, all that remained was an energy that spoke of death.
“Let’s give them a minute.” He reached for her hand and he said a silent prayer for them and their family. It brought home the fact they were invading and didn’t belong here.
She must have realized the same thing. Her eyes full of tears, she raised them level with his. “We need to get out of here, Sean. This doesn’t feel right.” While her words said one thing, she was making a beeline for what remained of the tree.
“Sara?”
She pointed to an ornament. “Baby’s First Christmas.” All that showed was Baby.
“You were right, Sara. We should go.”
“Sean.”
“Darling?” Words couldn’t express how badly he wanted out of there. Now.
She bent down and her hands hovered over other trinkets. She passed baubles of different colors—gold, red, and green—only a brief glint of their original beauty shining through. She touched a strand of lighting. “Should this look like that?”
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