by S. K. Grice
Goosebumps covered my warm skin. I held my breath. I could feel him gently pulling apart the long strands. I really needed a haircut.
“Here it is.” He flicked his hand, and the buzzing stopped.
I stood straight and watched the cicada fly away, wishing I could do the same. I smoothed my knotted hair and looked at him. His face was warm, kind, inquisitive. “You’re my hero for the day. Thank you.”
“I was driving by and saw your car out front. Thought I’d see how you’re doing.”
Passing clouds blocked the sun. I shivered. “As well as could be expected.”
“It’s been a tough year for you. I know how close you were to Patsy and Annette. The three of you had a long history together.”
I hesitated. He was trying so hard to be cool, but I knew he wasn’t here to console me. “Yeah. We were close.”
“Visited my dad at the nursing home today,” he said.
“How’s he doing?” I squirmed and brushed my arms because I still felt cicadas clawing.
He laughed. “Alzheimer’s is a funny thing.”
“Funny how?”
He eyed the tree, from the base of the trunk to the leafy crown, and then turned to me. “Dad can’t remember what happened yesterday but can remember every detail of what happened seventeen years ago.”
“I’d call that tragic. Not funny.”
He smiled, considering my face for an awkward moment. “I got a promotion, by the way.”
I crossed my arms. “Oh, yeah?”
He opened his jacket and revealed a shiny silver and gold badge. “Homicide detective.”
“Congratulations.” My knees wavered, but I’d kept my voice steady.
He put his hands on his hips and looked around the property. “Dad won’t stop talking about the Mike Morton missing person’s case.”
Heat rose to my face, causing sweat on my forehead. My instincts were right. This was no friendly visit. Keeping a straight face wasn’t easy, but I had to act like we were just two friends shootin’ the shit. “Oh, yeah. I remember he was involved in trying to find out what happened to him.”
“His dementia symptoms come and go, but he’s still obsessed with the mystery of what happened to Mike.”
Every muscle in my throat constricted, muting my voice. “Uh, huh.”
“Dad remembers a lot of details about the time Mike was last seen. And it’s the details that gnaw on him. For example, he remembers he’d stopped by to visit Patsy.” Noah chuckled, then shook his head. “He had a crush on that woman. Not that she’d ever give him the time of day.”
I glanced down at my hands. The vein in my wrist throbbed, and I counted each beat in my head. Five, ten, fifteen. Stop. “We all miss Patsy. Is that what’s gnawing at him?”
“Oh, he’s mourning her, that’s for sure. But it’s what happened on that day when he came here—August 4th, 2003, to be exact—the morning after Mike was last seen. Dad said Patsy wasn’t home. Just you and Annette.”
My stomach clenched. “That’s right. Patsy was down in North Carolina celebrating her divorce. Annette and I were just hanging out, listening to music, talking about college.” Taking acid and burying a dead man.
“You were both up early that Sunday morning. Went straight to Old Dominion Nursery and bought this tree.” He pulled on a branch and plucked off a few leaves.
My tongue stuck to the roof of my mouth, but I needed to speak if I had any intention of figuring out what the hell was happening. “We went to McDonald’s for breakfast first. Hash browns and coffee.” My tone blurred the line between naïve and sarcastic. Now I was certain Old Man Baker had given Noah an earful of something.
He looked at the oak. “This is the tree you two bought.”
Sweat dripped down my spine. What had Annette and I done to make Old Man Baker suspicious? An image of that day flashed in my mind. The bruises on our arms and legs. The red mark on Annette’s face. I cracked a smile. “That’s right. Is it a crime to buy a tree?”
He laughed then play-punched my arm. “Lighten up, Parker. I’m just curious.”
Part of his friendliness felt genuine. If I’d lived a normal existence, Noah would have been the type of guy I would have made a play for. Handsome and hardworking. Rough edges under his pressed shirts. I had the feeling he wasn’t as clean-cut and all-American as he liked people to think. Probably secretly surfed kinky porn sites on the Internet.
But homicide detective was the role he played now, and he was here to dig up information about Mike’s disappearance. “Why’s your dad so interested in this tree?”
“Not many people plant trees in the dead heat of summer.” He put his hands on his hips, exposing the shiny badge hooked onto his belt. “That’s one thing that’s been itching my Dad’s intuition for years. It’s made him come up with some outlandish theories.”
I kept my expression blank, like I had no idea what he was talking about. And I didn’t. Changing tack, I shifted my tone from curious to nostalgic. “Patsy wanted to plant an American Red Oak right in this spot. Annette and I decided to plant it before we went away for college the next week.” I laughed for a second. “If we’d left it up to Patsy, it never would’ve gotten done.”
A rumble of thunder filled a few moments of silence. Cumulus clouds expanded to cover half of the blue sky.
“Convenient,” Noah said. “I mean, how the deep hole had already been dug.”
My heart thumped. How would he have known the hole was already there unless his father had told him? What else had his father said? Was Old Man Baker the person I’d seen running across the lawn that night?
I laughed, like Noah had triggered a happy memory. “That damn hole had been there for two years. Patsy changed her mind about the pond and decided a tree would be better.” I smiled and looked lovingly at the surrounds of the tree. “She was so excited that Annette and I had planted it for her. This was her favorite place to sit, you know. Right here at this picnic table.”
Noah considered me for a moment. “You have a strong connection to this tree.”
“For the whole property. Sounds like you do, too.”
“I do feel connected. And now I’m interested.” He kicked the tree trunk.
I winced at the thud, and my stomach tightened like he’d punched me in the gut. Was he playing games, toying with my mind? I stayed blank-faced, but fear clawed at my skin. “Interested in what?”
Noah rubbed his leather-soled shoes against a frayed ground root. Scuff, scuff, scuff. “We have a new police chief. He’s shaking things up at the department and we’ve been looking into some unsolved mysteries.”
“Oh?” I cringed at the grating sound of shoes against the fibrous root. Like sandpaper scraping on skin. I wanted to tell him to stop.
“Wants to get closure on cases which have gone cold. As it happens, the chief is good friends with the Morton family. He’s determined to help them.”
A cool wind came in a rush, and an avalanche dark clouds moved in, throwing shadows on the forest. I shivered. “I heard about the re-opening of the investigation on the news.”
“I promised Dad I’d find Mike.” Noah sighed. “His parents are still alive and healthy. They’ve always refused to believe Mike just disappeared. Mike’s mom is convinced he’s dead and buried somewhere.”
“That’s an awful thought. I would have figured they had hope of finding him alive. Living on skid row somewhere.”
“I’ll get to the point.” Noah sighed. “The police have reason to believe Annette and Patsy knew something about Mike’s disappearance.”
His blunt words jabbed my gut. “What? Why?” I glared at him. What the hell was he talking about? Patsy had known nothing about what happened to Mike. I was sure of it. Her warm and kind heart wouldn’t have been able to handle the truth.
“We’re re-interviewing people who lived within two miles of the spot Mike was last seen. Retracing his footsteps. Checking all angles.” Noah rubbed his nose. “I can’t disclose our reaso
ns, but since you were a close friend with Annette, and you were at her house around the time Mike was last seen, I thought you could help give us some insight into the case.”
Nerves scrambled in my stomach. Noah had most likely learned about Annette’s retracted rape charges against Mike, either through Old Man Baker or police records. Inspector Gadget could’ve seen the motivation, but I wouldn’t bring it up. “I-I mean, your dad questioned me and Annette years ago. He talked to Patsy, too. But if it helps, I’ll go over it again. I arrived at here around 9:00 p.m. We stayed home all night, listening to music and talking about going back to college the next week.”
Noah pursed his lips. “Yeah. I read the police reports.”
Thunder pounded the air sending birds screeching from their forest perches. I rubbed my bare arms to smooth out the goosebumps. My name was in police reports. I’d stored away the memory of the day Old Man Baker had showed up at Patsy’s house to question whether we’d seen Mike Morton. Another buried blip. “Maybe he was hitch-hiking and someone with bad intentions picked him up.”
Noah ignored my comment. “How was Annette feeling when you arrived that night? Did she appear anxious?”
“Anxious? No. We were both in good moods.”
The air crackled. Noah looked to the darkening sky and then the surrounding forest. “Something happened on these backroads. And someone knows exactly what.”
I looked at him, nodding. If only he knew he stood over Mike’s body. “I heard about the reward. Anything come of that?”
His jaw twitched. “I can’t comment on an ongoing investigation.”
“Oh. I thought that was what we were doing.”
Noah glanced over my shoulder. “I think you have company.”
I turned. Katie stood at the side of the house waving. “I’ll wait for you on the verandah!” she called out.
“Go ahead inside,” I called out. “The front door is open—I’ll be right there.” The raindrops increased and I smoothed back my hair. I’d prepared for this therapy meeting with Katie and left my house that morning full of confidence. Noah’s visit had changed that.
Thunder boomed and birds shrieked in the forest. Chills ran over my skin and I hugged myself, shivering in my rain specked dress. “Time for me to head inside.”
“Sure thing.” He tapped his forehead and gave a goodbye salute. “Glad we had a chance to talk. If you remember anything you think might be helpful with the investigation, let me know. Any little detail.”
“You’ll be the first to know.” I forced a friendly smile. “Bye now.” The raindrops increased to a shower, and I took off toward the back deck while Noah ran toward his car in the driveway.
I had more than a stalker and random leaves to worry about. Now I had the heat on my ass. I couldn’t lie to myself any longer. The investigation was in full force and showed no sign of fading away.
Chapter Ten
Thunder pounded the sky and the ground shook as I charged through the rain, up the back deck, and through to the kitchen. I ripped a handful of paper towels from the roll on the countertop and blotted my face. Fucking Noah. Wasn’t hard to figure by his interrogating questions that he’d linked Mike’s disappearance with the family tree.
“Everything all right back there?” Katie called out from the living room.
I pushed my damp hair off my face and the thoughts from my head then I walked into the living room, still dabbing my arms with a paper towel. My bones rattled, but I steadied my voice. “Uh, sure. I’m fine. Just got a bit wet.”
Katie narrowed her eyes. “You sure everything’s okay?”
“Of course. Why?”
“It’s just, I noticed the police decal on the license plate.” She looked at me as if she’d just asked a question.
The police are looking for the body I buried under the oak tree in the back yard. Chills crawled across my skin. I wished that thought hadn’t snuck in. “Noah’s an acquaintance. Just stopped by to see how I’m doing.”
“That was nice.” Her tone was soothing, but her expression was pure I-don’t-believe-you.
Heat flushed up my neck and face as the thoughts came through unbidden. Noah is onto me. Onto the secret. I tossed the paper towels on the coffee table and fanned myself with my hand. “Whew. It’s quite stuffy. I think we need to get some air in here.” I slid open the front window, and the humid summer air hit my face.
Katie tilted her head and examined me for a moment. “You look anxious. Anything to do with your friend who was here?”
“No, no. Definitely not.” I fidgeted with my hands. “It’s the house, I think. The memories. I mean—I came here about half-an-hour ago by myself. Already walked around a bit.”
Katie touched my shoulder with one hand and gestured to the armchair with her other. “Let’s sit down and go through this together. We can talk about some strategies for moving past the grief and make living here on your own easier.”
I plonked down into the armchair. “I won’t be living here alone. A friend is moving in and renting for a while.”
“A renter?” Katie looked pleasantly surprised. “How did this come about?”
Relieved to get off the subject of Noah, I talked about Melissa moving in and the rekindled friendships with Nancy and Denise. “And I’ve hired an estate sales company to sell everything. With some paint and new furniture, I can make this my home.”
“Starting fresh is a good idea.” She smiled, tilting her head. “How’s the medication working? Is it still helping control the thoughts?”
My eyes drifted to the spot on the floor where I’d found the leaf. Stop overthinking. Leaves flew around everywhere on this property. It was the intense investigation which stood between me coping and falling apart. I turned to Katie. “I’m not having crazy thoughts anymore. It’s been easier to control my crazy.”
Katie looked at me disapprovingly. “You’re not crazy. We’ve discussed this before.”
Few people ever thought I was sane. Annette. Patsy. And now Katie, if I wanted to believe a therapist.
She gave me a warm smile. “Soon, you’ll be living in the house and enjoying the life you want.”
I admired her optimism, but I had a bigger problem than how to cope with living in the house. That wasn’t even on my radar at the moment. It was the damned investigation looming over me that had my nerves on edge. I didn’t like any kind of attention. Especially homicide detective attention. Not when I was so close to getting my children back.
But with my name linked to Mike’s missing person case, laying low and waiting for the investigation to fade away wasn’t an option anymore.
Thunder pounded and the raindrops popped against the roof.
Katie placed a notepad and pen on the coffee table. “Shall we get started with the exposure therapy?”
Figuring out how to block police interest in me and the tree was foremost on my mind, and I would have deal with that, but now wasn’t the time. I straightened my spine and stood. “Let’s begin with the grand tour.”
Wandering the rooms of the house alone, surrounded by the accumulation of Patsy’s material life on display, I could still feel her presence. But today, I would finally let go. After a month of ERPT sessions with Katie, I was finally ready to begin the process of moving into the house.
Nothing new had been reported about Mike’s missing person investigation, or maybe I hadn’t been paying attention. But I figured the leads the police had claimed to have had fizzled out or else they would have already hunted me down.
Instead, I’d enjoyed a full week with the children as Aaron had promised, along with random trips to the beach and the new house so they could pick out their bedrooms. It had all passed quickly and uneventfully.
Since the twins had gone back to school a week ago, I’d kept myself busy packing up the townhouse and getting quotes for some cosmetic updates to the new house.
The crew from Beloved Keepsake Estate Sales had come the day before and taken inventory of everything down
to the smallest bric-a-brac, then staged the house into a vintage 90s shop.
I was obsessed with planning for a more positive future, and soon the old reminders of the past would go, and I could make this place my own home. Peeking through the curtains in the living room, I saw that cars were already lining up on the street. I expected the estate sale crew any minute.
Ring, ring. Ring, ring.
The landline. I turned toward the kitchen. Patsy had stayed old-school and kept the same handset and message recorder for thirty years. I remembered how Patsy had set the machine to pick up on the sixth ring in order to give herself enough time to pick up a call.
Ring, ring. Ring, ring.
I would have preferred to get rid of the machine and line, but Mrs. Nichols had told me that old friends of Patsy’s were still calling this number and leaving messages. Over the years, I’d seen a string of long-time friends stop and visit or call out of the blue, so it wouldn’t surprise me.
Ring, ring. Ring, ring.
I hesitated. I wasn’t good at delivering bad news.
Ring, ring. Ring, ring.
Exhaling a breath, I picked up the phone. “Hello?”
Someone was breathing, but not talking.
“Hello?” Did we have a bad connection?
“Mmmm.” A moan. More breathing.
My temperature rose. I didn’t have time for pranksters. I plonked the handset back in its cradle. I actually wanted to take the phone out. I didn’t need a landline. But Patsy would’ve wanted me to keep it for a little while just in case an out-of-town friend called.
Ding dong. Ding dong. Ding dong.
“Knock, knock. It’s the Beloved Keepsake crew here.”
I shook off the weirdness of the phone call and went into the living room where two other estate sale staff wasted no time in setting up sales stations.
Time to get this day started and done.
“Good morning.” Melissa’s chirpy voice filled the room. She came inside and handed me a takeaway coffee from the Espresso Bean Café. “A double-latte for you.”
