by Amber West
“Sounds good.”
“Until tomorrow then.”
I hung up the phone, and lay in bed. I closed my eyes, thinking of Jack, only to have the image of his face replaced with Father Mike’s smirk.
I grabbed my bat off the floor and fell asleep hugging it to my chest.
Chapter 24
“How was dinner?”
Emma slid into the booth across from me. It was a little early for the usual dinner crowd, so she took a break to chat with me while I finished mine.
“It was nice. We went to this little Italian place the next town over. He chatted about growing up near a farm and how he misses having animals around. It was sweet.”
Emma leaned in, lowering her voice to barely above a whisper, “Are you and the Sheriff dating?”
I leaned in and matched her voice. “Maybe? He did kiss me the other night.”
“What?!” Emma’s whisper disappeared and the woman behind the counter looked over. She lowered her voice again, “Sorry. He kissed you?”
“It was just on the cheek. But still.”
“The Sheriff isn’t the type to lead a girl on. Believe me. I’ve seen women try to get his attention and as nice as he is, he’s not the type to go around flirtin’ and givin’ them the wrong idea. That dinner was definitely a real date.”
“Yeah, well, too bad it got cut short,” I said, popping a tater tot in my mouth. “Speaking of which, I wonder if everything is ok. Jack thought he’d be back this morning.”
I pulled out my phone checking to be sure I didn’t miss a call and heard Emma giggle. When I looked up I saw her smiling at someone behind me. I felt a hand rest on my shoulder and looked up to see Jack standing there.
“Well, that answers that,” Emma said, jumping out of the booth still giggling. “And my break is over. Nice seein’ you Sheriff.”
“You too, Emma.” Jack slid into the spot Emma left.
“How’s the Doc?”
“He’s doing fine. He’s home resting.”
“Really?”
“Yup. If you’re done here, I’ll fill you in.”
I tossed a few bills on the table and waved to Emma as I got up. I looked for Jack’s Jeep as we walked out but didn’t see it anywhere. Reading my gaze, Jack offered, “I dropped the Jeep at the house after I took the Doc home. Felt like a little walk. You don’t mind do you?”
I shook my head. Jack walked close with his head down as he spoke. “So the Doc...”
“Yeah?”
“Turns out he had a pretty high blood alcohol level. Looks like he took some medication, nothing out of the ordinary, but the combination knocked him out cold. Made his heart race, but he didn’t have an attack or anything.”
“That seems weird that he would take his meds and drink that much, especially if he had plans to leave the house.”
“I don’t know. Like I said before, the Doc has been having some troubles lately with his drinking. This confirms it’s gotten out of hand.”
“So you don’t think there’s anything suspicious about it?”
Jack sighed. “Honestly, I don’t. Even if,” he looked around and lowered his voice before continuing, “Father Mike was up to anything, going after the Doc doesn’t make any sense. And that’s if there is really anything going on.”
I stopped walking and turned towards Jack. “You don’t think Father Mike might be up to something?”
“I’m not saying that, I’m just saying that the Doc doesn’t give us any more reason to think that he is. After all, we don’t even know if his story about Andy isn’t true.”
I let out a sigh and continued walking. Jack followed, walking closely, nudging me with his elbow. “You’re not upset with me, are you?”
“No. I just hoped we were closer to figuring something out. Turns out there may not be much of anything to figure out.” I quickly added. “Not that I wanted something bad to happen to the Doc, of course.”
“Of course. Would it make you feel better if I said there was a surprise for you at the house?”
I raised an eyebrow and smiled. “Really?”
He nodded. “I’m not telling you what it is, though. You’ll have to wait until—”
Before he could finish I broke into a run, heading for the house. When I could hear him behind me I sped up, laughing.
We reached his front porch, out of breath. Jack coughed for a second before saying anything. “Who knew you were so fast?”
“I’ll give you a head start next time,” I said, leaning next to the door.
Jack shook his head as we walked in, grabbed my hand and led me to the kitchen. A chocolate cake rested on the table. I looked over at the dishes in the sink, confirming that it was homemade.
“When did you do this?”
“After I dropped the Doc off. Came back here and whipped this up, then called the diner to see if Emma knew what you were up to.”
“Ahhh, that explains the extra amount of giggling when you showed up. Very clever.”
“I figured I still owed you dessert. Didn’t want you thinking I didn’t know how to properly finish a date.”
I sat down at the table, watching as Jack sliced a huge piece onto a plate, bringing it over with two forks. As he sat down next to me I took a bite and closed my eyes. “You’ve been holding out on me. This is incredible.”
“Well, I don’t bake for just anyone.” I tried to hide a big grin behind another big bite of cake. “I’m probably going to need to go out of town again for a few days. With the Doc’s drinking, we really need someone to cover the clinic. I spoke with someone at the hospital about interviewing candidates.”
“Makes sense.”
He leaned closer and laid his hand on mine. “As much as I’d love for you to come with me, I think the town needs you here in case of an emergency. I hate to put that on you, but I think it’s the best thing.”
“Of course. It’s only a couple of days. No big deal.”
“Well, you could at least pretend you’ll miss me.”
I laughed. “If you’re gonna twist my arm.”
With little warning, he leaned in and kissed me. He was gentle, save the scratch of his 5 o’clock shadow, and didn’t linger. As he pulled away, I breathed in, the fresh smell of soap and pine fading behind the scent of chocolate cake. Still close, he spoke quietly. “Now will you miss me?”
I smiled, trying not to look away. “Yes. I’ll miss you. But I’m pretty sure I can console myself with the rest of this cake.”
Chapter 25
I sat in the back of church, counting the minutes getting me that much closer to the end of the day. Jack was gone most of the week and was scheduled to return tonight. I kept myself busy, taking pictures, visiting with Emma, and helping Joan at the bookstore, but in the evenings I really missed chatting with him over tea. At least things had been uneventful during his absence.
When services ended, I said a few hellos to the parishioners sitting around me then made my way down the steps.
“Jameson.”
I knew before turning around who was waiting for me. “Father Mike. What can I do for you?”
“I thought I would check in and see how you were. Haven’t spoken with you in a bit, and haven’t seen you in confession.”
“I’m fine, thanks.” I tried my best to be polite. Jack made me promise that I wouldn’t stir up any trouble while he was gone, especially since we didn’t know if Father Mike was guilty of anything, other than being creepy. “How are you?”
He smiled. “You’d be surprised how infrequently I get asked that. I’m well enough. I appreciate the interest.”
I smiled, still walking towards home.
“So,” he continued, taking a quick look around, “how are things going with you and the Sheriff?”
“Things?”
“Rumor has it you two are seeing each other now.”
“Something like that.”
He nodded. “A word of advice?”
I waited without object
ing.
“Keep a low profile. This town is,” he paused, squinting, “protective of its own. Some people may not be thrilled about you two.”
“And what do you think of us?”
Father Mike stopped, then smirked. “Not really for me to say. I don’t really know you well enough to chime in on who is or isn’t good for you.”
“Wisest thing I’ve heard you say all day.”
“Look, Jameson,” Father Mike’s voice was calm, but serious, “I get the feeling you think I’m some sort of bad guy here for some reason. I want to assure you I’m not what you think I am. Whatever that may be.”
I kept walking, but inside I froze. I knew I had been cool towards the priest, but I didn’t think I had been obvious about my suspicions. How could he be on to me, when I wasn’t even sure whether or not he was guilty of something?
“Not at all, Mike. Maybe you caught me on an off day.” I paused. “Or days.”
“That’s alright. We all have them. I’m glad to know that I was reading you wrong. You see, always good to go to someone directly when you think you may have caused offense.”
I nodded and forced a smile. We had reached the turn for me to head to the house.
“Well,” Father Mike paused at the break in the road, “I am going to go grab lunch at the diner. Care to join me?”
“I appreciate the invite, but I have some things I was hoping to do at home this afternoon.”
“It was worth asking,” he shrugged. “Have a lovely afternoon, Jameson.”
“You too, Father.”
I turned the corner, praying that Jack’s jeep would be in the driveway when I got there.
Chapter 26
“So glad you accepted the invitation to visit with us, Miss Quinn.”
I sat in the circle of ladies, each with their knitting needles and yarn in their laps.
“I appreciated the invite. I’ve always meant to learn how to knit.”
Francine leaned over to look at what I was doing. “You seem to be catching on well enough.”
“Thanks. I think I can manage to make myself a scarf. It won’t be like anything you ladies make, but I figure I gotta start somewhere.”
The women smiled and nodded, their hands never pausing from their work.
“So, Francine,” Camille, the owner of the shop we were sitting in spoke up, “have you talked to Joan lately?”
“Yes. Poor dear. You know it’s been months and she is still in denial about that husband of hers.”
“Horrible thing to happen. And with two kids.”
“What happened with Joan’s husband?” I asked.
“Up and left her,” Camille answered, “for some other woman. She didn’t even see it coming.”
The other women took turns shaking their heads and clucking their tongues.
“That’s awful.”
“You want to know what’s even sadder?” Francine was leaning forward in her chair, knitting needles still clicking away. “She’s convinced herself that he didn’t leave her for some woman. She thinks something happened to him. I mean, I guess I can understand. You hate to think the man you trusted for years wasn’t who you thought. Guess it could be more comforting to think he was in some accident and lying dead in ditch than to know he’s off gallivanting with some leggy young thing.”
“It’s beyond tragic,” Camille added. “We should invite her to do something. Get her mind off it all.”
The other women nodded in agreement.
“So, Miss Quinn,” Camille continued without looking up from the sweater she was working on, “I hear the Sheriff has taken a bit of a shine to you. I don’t like to entertain gossip, of course.”
I waited, unsure if I was supposed to be answering her lack of a question. As a few ladies glanced up from their work at me, I decided I should say something.
“We’ve been spending time getting to know each other. He’s a very nice man.”
“Yes he is. About the only eligible man in town, too. Well, was anyway.”
I forced a smile, feeling awkward as the center of attention. I remembered what Mike said about the town being protective and quickly added, “We’re still getting to know each other.”
Francine smiled and paused from her knitting to pat my arm. “Oh sweetie, we ladies here are a little old for the Sheriff, so we aren’t concerned with a nice girl snatching him up. That doll deserves a good woman.”
“Speak for yourself,” came a voice from one of the chairs, a white haired old woman that looked to be pushing eighty, easily. “I still know how to work it.”
I took my cue from the rest of the group and laughed, relieved that they all seemed to be in such good spirits about the news. Maybe Father Mike didn't know the town as well as he thought.
Or maybe he had other reasons for warning me about dating Jack.
~~~
I sat in front of my laptop eating the last piece of cake. It was after ten and I’d given up on trying to sleep. Despite the Doc’s collapse being explained, and Jack being unsure if there was anything to suspect of the priest, I couldn’t stop thinking about Andy and the lack of men in the town. I thought I would get online and do some investigating. After all, if I stumbled upon a town of what deadbeat dads had left behind, surely I would be able to track some of them down. If I could find them, I might be able to find out if they had other reasons for leaving.
I’d been at it for an hour and hadn’t managed to find a single one of the husbands and fathers that walked out on these families. I closed the laptop, frustrated that my research only left me with more questions than answers, and flopped on to the bed. I turned towards the nightstand, grabbed my pile of unopened mail, and opened an envelope of photos, the ones developed from the old film in the rummage sale camera. I flipped through some foliage photos, tossing the bad ones on the floor. Pausing as I got to some blurry pictures I didn’t take, I remembered that there was an unfinished roll in the camera, so I slowly flipped through the rest of the stack.
I squinted as I looked at one blur for a minute, rubbing my eyes as I tried to make it out. I set the photo to the side to look at the next. Another unfocused shot, but there was something there, something I could barely make out. A skull in dirt? It couldn’t be. Maybe it was just a shadow. I turned to the next photo to see what looked like a deep red stain on a concrete floor. Each photo showed more of the same.
And then there, in the corner of one of the photos was something familiar. I jumped out of bed and ran into the bathroom, turning on the lights to get a better look at the photograph.
I knew that pattern. It was the same pattern of fleur-de-lis in the tapestries of the church and covering the screen of the confessional.
My stomach tightened. I had started to believe that maybe I was imagining drama, that I was bored with the small town and was trying to invent something that wasn’t there. But this was confirmation that I wasn’t imagining anything. Confirmation of way worse than anything from my imagination.
I heard a noise downstairs and thought it might be Jack. Looking outside the window next to the door I saw a light on upstairs. Odd, I thought, since he didn’t call. I started to head out to check, grabbing my bat as I did.
I stepped out of the house, looking around before heading across the yard. It was creepy how dark it got back here. Even with Jack’s porch light on, I felt the need to walk faster to get out of the darkness. I banged on the door, dancing in place trying to contain my nerves and fight the cold.
No answer.
I turned the handle, and finding the door unlocked, I let myself in. “Jack!”
Still, no answer.
I got to the living room, and was heading for the stairs when I saw a figure in the dark and felt something crash into the back of my head.
Chapter 27
I awoke to the sound of my own muffled moans and a sharp pain in my side. I couldn’t see or move my arms and legs, but I felt the warmth of blood traveling down my side. Someone hovered just in front of
me, their breath in my face, then a whisper in my ear. “Someone needs to learn their place.”
Another blast of pain and more blood. “You interfered where you shouldn’t have,” came the whisper.
Tears burned my eyes, dampening the blindfold. My mouth was taped shut, keeping me from speaking or screaming. I felt something cold and wet being slowly dragged across my stomach. When it disappeared, someone grabbed my hair, throwing my face down into the floor. My shirt was lifted and a searing heat was pressed up against my back. I was being held down. I couldn’t move, I couldn’t scream. I could only taste blood in my mouth and smell my own flesh cooking.
I tried to hold on, but again, everything went dark.
I didn’t know if it was minutes or hours before I heard voices again. I heard one whisper, “That’s enough for now. We’ll decide in the morning.”
I listened to the shuffling of feet and murmuring, then a door slamming shut. I took a breath, trying to stay composed.
Slowly I rolled onto my back, pain coming from all directions, screaming at me to stay still. My only hope was to fight past the pain.
I rubbed the back of my head against the wall behind me, inching the blindfold off my face. As it fell off, I took a moment, letting my eyes adjust to the dark room. It was dark, but not pitch black. My ankles were bound with tape, and it felt like my wrists were held together the same way. I scooted around to a large cabinet and began rubbing the tape on my wrists against a corner, hoping the edge might be sharp enough to wear it away. I ignored the pain every time I slipped and slid my wrist rather than the tape against the sharp edge.
After lots of work, the tape weakened and snapped. With my hands free, I made quick work of the binding around my ankles, then removed the tape across my mouth. I pushed myself to my feet, the pain in my side nearly knocking me down. Leaning against the wall, I looked around for a weapon. The room was large and cold, sparsely furnished with an unlit stone fireplace. There I spotted a poker and grabbed it, figuring it was better than nothing.
I listened next to the door for a few minutes. Silence. I opened the door, the slightest crack, widening it enough to see out. A cold draft rushed in and I heard movement, prompting me to shut the door again. I sat down on the floor, holding the poker across my chest, waiting a bit longer before trying again.
