Sarah Woods Mystery Series (Volume 3)

by Jennifer L. Jennings

  “You are incorrigible. Forget it.”

  I took a few more sips of my drink, then inhaled a deep breath as I stood up. My head felt a bit dizzy, but the tequila had given me some courage. “Fine, you talked me into it. I'm calling her.”

  Carter gazed up at me, dumbfounded. “Wow. I didn't actually think you'd do it.”

  I dialed Jenn's number and waited as a low-level dread crept into my stomach. My fears were confirmed when the call went straight to voicemail. “Shit.”

  “Just swallow your pride and go on over to her house,” he said. “She lives five blocks away.”

  I felt paralyzed as I stood there, staring at Carter. Why was he pushing me to do this? Why did he even care? Why couldn’t he just mind his own business?

  Carter sighed and shook his head, as if he’d read my mind. “Never mind,” he said. “Bad idea.”

  I stood up straight, feeling a new resolve come over me. “You’re right. It might be a bad idea. But I’m going anyway.”

  Chapter 16

  It was almost eight. The sky was a deep shade of purple black. I sat in my car in Jennifer's driveway, trying to see through the windows of her cute, one-story, stucco house with Spanish tile roof. I knew she was home, because her white BMW was parked in the driveway.

  From inside my car, I tried to get a glimpse through the windows. It seemed rather dark in there.

  I willed my body to move, to get out of the damned car, but it was as if my butt was cemented to the leather seat. I told myself to calm down.

  As I took some deep breaths, something caught my eye from across the street. In the darkness, I could make out a person sitting in a car. As my eyes adjusted to the dim light, I realized who it was. And I knew why.

  I grabbed my purse, got out of the car, and walked across the street to the dark sedan. Andrew Foster's driver's side window was already lowered.

  “Andrew? What are you doing?” I whispered.

  He looked at me, an expression of despair. “Max and Jennifer have been alone in her house for over an hour now.”

  I gasped. Part of me was relieved, and part of me was not. “What have you seen?”

  “Nothing. She closed the curtains.”

  I leaned closer to Andrew and smelled alcohol on his breath. “Are you stalking Jennifer?”

  The whites of his eyes glowed in the dark. “Of course not.”

  “Then what are you doing here? Did she invite you over?”

  I could tell by his clenched jaw and moist eyes that he was pissed, or just hurt. I couldn't tell. “I'm almost forty years old and I've never been rejected by a girl before,” he said.

  I paused to consider the right words to say. He and I were kind of in the same boat, and I felt oddly connected to him. “Maybe they're just commiserating over Dennis,” I said.

  Andrew didn't respond; instead, he just sat there, staring at the dashboard.

  “Why don't you go home,” I said. “You have to relax and give her space.”

  He looked up at me, his brown eyes sad and droopy like a puppy. “Tell me Sarah, do you trust Max?”

  I swallowed. “Yes, I trust him.”

  He gave a sardonic chuckle and started his engine. “You're a fool.”

  I told myself that Andrew was just drunk and paranoid. “Maybe you should call a cab,” I told him.

  “Don't worry about me,” he replied. “You have more important things to worry about.”

  I stood there speechless as Andrew drove off into the night. I felt a chill running up my spine as I reluctantly headed to Jennifer's front door.

  I knocked once. Nothing. I knocked again. Still nothing. I was about to knock a third time, when the door opened.

  Jennifer stood there blinking at me.

  She opened the door wide and stepped to the side. “Sarah, come on in. Max has been waiting for your call.”

  “Has he?” I replied, trying to keep the condescension out of my voice. “Because his phone is turned off. And your is, too.”

  Once inside, I noticed Max lounging on the couch. Thankfully, he still had his clothes on.

  “How'd your meeting go?” he asked. There was a weird look on his face that I couldn't read.

  “It went okay.” I stood there, hands in pockets, feeling awkward as hell. “I'm really sorry about tonight and our dinner plans. I tried calling you but your phone is turned off. Why didn't you leave a note?”

  He reached into his back pocket and checked his phone. I could see that his hand was shaking. “Aw, shit. My battery is dead. Sorry.”

  Before I could decide what to do next, Jennifer walked in from the kitchen with a glass of wine. Was it just my imagination, or was her hand a bit shaky, too?

  “Here you go. I figured you could use this after your busy day,” she said with a forced smile. “Have a seat next to Max, I'll grab another chair.”

  The couch was only big enough for two, and I realized, with dismay, that Jennifer and Max must have been sitting on the sofa together – at very close proximity. For some reason, I didn't feel like sitting, afraid I'd be able to smell the deceit on him. But what was I going to do? Just stand like an idiot, holding a glass of wine that I didn't want?

  Jennifer pulled a chair up by the sofa and sat down. “I'm sorry to steal Max away from you. But I figured since you were working, he'd let me talk his ear off for a while.”

  I took a sip and forced the liquid down my tense throat. It tasted bitter. “Max is a good listener.” The comment came out like an insult.

  We sat in silence for a few seconds. I gulped down some more wine, searching for something to say. Max seemed awfully quiet. I just wanted someone else to talk so I didn't have to think and wonder what had gone on between them before I arrived. Finally, I said the first thing I could think of. “So, Jenn, why don't you consider going out on a date with Andrew? He seems like a decent catch.”

  She paused, glanced at Max for a brief moment, then shook her head. “Oh, he's nice enough. Just not my type.”

  “How do you know he's not your type?” I persisted.

  She very sat still, hands clutching her knees. “Because ... I just know.”

  “Maybe you could give him a chance,” I said.

  An awkward silence followed, and part of me just wanted her to finally admit that Max was the one she wanted. At least I could respect her for her honesty.

  Jennifer stood up. “Excuse me for a minute. I need to … get a glass of water. Would you like a refill on your wine, Sarah?”

  “No, thanks,” I replied dryly.

  When Jennifer left the room, Max turned to me with a sour expression. “Why are you trying to talk Jenn into going out with Andrew? She obviously doesn't care for the guy.”

  “But why not? He's good looking, smart, and rich. Sounds like a perfect fit for her.”

  Max sighed in exasperation. “Look, just trust me okay. Andrew is not the guy for Jenn.”

  “Why?” I asked. “Is it because you want to be with her?”

  When he looked away, I realized that my comment had touched a nerve.

  A burning electricity shot up my spinal cord, and I jolted to a standing position so fast that I spilled the wine all over me just as Jennifer came back into the room with her water.

  She looked at me, then at Max, then back at me, her expression wrought with confusion. “Is everything okay you guys?”

  “You know what?” I snapped. “Everything is not okay. In fact, I don't like this at all.”

  Jenn and Max looked at each other, panic on their faces, and that's when I knew. They were hiding something from me.

  Max stood u and, clasped a hand around my arm. “Sarah, just calm down, please.”

  I glared at him. “The two of you obviously have unfinished business. And please don't deny it. I can see it on both of your faces.”

  Max's shoulder's slumped. He closed his eyes and shook his head. “I really don't appreciate the accusations, Sarah. I've done nothing wrong.”

  “Even if you ha
ven't done anything wrong, you're thinking about it. You've changed, Max. And it all started when you got to Florida.” I handed Jenn the empty wine glass and grabbed my purse.

  Jennifer just stood there, wide-eyed, like a stone statue as I marched to the door.

  “Sarah, where are you going?” Max called out.

  I didn't respond. I just got the hell out of there.

  Chapter 17

  Carter was still at the bar when I returned to the Ocean Terrace. An empty plate, with tell-tale signs of ketchup and mustard, sat in front of him.

  Carter whistled through his teeth when he noticed me walking toward him. “That's not a happy face. I take it my idea didn't go over so well.”

  I indicated the wine stains on my clothing. “That is an understatement.” I fought to keep control of my emotions, but the tears started flowing anyway.

  Carter promptly paid his bill and led me out of the bar to the elevators. “First things first, let’s get you back to your room so you can change.”

  I wiped my eyes, feeling embarrassed for the moment of weakness. “Sorry,” I said, digging a tissue out of my purse. “I'm fine now. You don't have to escort me to my room.”

  He gave me a slightly hurt look. “Well, okay. If you'd rather be alone ...”

  “I didn't mean that. I'm just saying, don't feel obligated to take care of me.”

  The elevator doors opened.

  “You're a big girl,” he said. “I know you can take care of yourself. But I'm a gentleman, so I will see you to your room, understand?”

  I didn't argue.

  After changing into a fresh pair of jeans and blouse, I went into the bathroom and gazed into the mirror. Streaks of mascara ran down my cheeks. My hair was a rat's nest. I resembled a character from The Walking Dead. I splashed some cold water on my face.

  When I returned to the sitting room, I noticed Carter out on the balcony, so I joined him.

  He smiled at me. “Feel better?”

  “A little.” I had to admit, I was glad that Carter was there. His energy had a calming effect on me, something I needed desperately. It also made me wonder … what would Carter be like as a lover? Would he be sweet and attentive? Or aloof and selfish? Why did I care? I couldn’t think of him that way. He was my partner and besides, it’s not like I was even attracted to him. Although, I couldn’t deny there was something …but maybe it was just the simple fact that he was there for me. I trusted him. He had my back. And that was more than I could say for most people.

  Neither one of us said a word as we stared out to the vast, black ocean. The humidity seemed more intense with the lack of breeze Carter didn’t seem in a hurry to say anything and I was fine with that.

  After a few minutes, I turned to Carter and said, “It's been a hectic few days. You don't have to stay if you’re exhausted.”

  “Nah. I don't sleep much, anyway. ”

  “Why not?”

  “I don't know,” he said. “I guess I'm afraid of monsters.”

  Just like Carter to crack a joke at his expense to cheer me up. I laughed because I knew of the monsters he was referring to. They were not living, breathing beasts. They were the regrets of his past, lurking in the shadows, never letting him forget.

  “Is it because of your daughter?” I asked, remembering the story he told me of her drug overdose that happened so many years ago. My hunch was that Carter still blamed himself, and I suspected he'd always wear that blame like a noose around his neck, until the day he died.

  “Maybe it's time to kill the monsters,” I told him. “Stick a knife in their wretched little hearts and be done with 'em.”

  He chuckled softly. “Believe me, Sarah, I've tried. Very elusive bastards.”

  “I know.” I reached out to touch his shoulder. “Boy, don't I know.”

  He took a step back, breaking my contact. “Maybe I should go,” he said. “Max will probably be walking in any minute.”

  Reality came flooding back. “Yeah. You're right. He and I have a lot to talk about.”

  I followed him back into the sitting room. He opened the door to leave and said, “Guess I'll see you tomorrow morning?”

  “Sure.”

  After Carter left, I checked my phone and felt my heart pounding in my chest. Nothing. Nada. No calls, texts, or emails from Max.

  Was he still at Jenn's house? Was he out taking a long walk by himself?

  Those questions and many others haunted my mind in the following two hours that I waited for him. Surely, he'd come back, I kept telling myself while staring at the door, keeping my phone glued to my hand. Surely, he'd be back any minute.

  But he never came back.

  Chapter 18

  The next morning, my eyes popped open, waking from a disturbing dream. I blinked, looked around and realized I was alone in bed.

  My mouth felt as dry as cotton balls. I fetched a cold bottle of water from the fridge and guzzled the whole thing.

  It was 8:45. I jumped in the shower, dressed in my usual jeans and cotton blouse, and pulled my hair back into a ponytail.

  Carter was waiting for me in the lobby. He handed me a cup of coffee. I expected him to ask about Max, but he didn't. He must have noticed my bloodshot eyes and surmised that the topic would best be avoided.

  “So the Delray Beach Community Center is about a ten-minute drive,” Carter said, all business. “Just stay on Route one North and you'll run into it. Are you sure you're feeling up to this?”

  I nodded with determination. “Absolutely. I just want to get this case solved so we can get paid and get back to New Hampshire. I'm so done with Florida right now.”

  “I hear ya.” He gave me a friendly pat on the arm. “Call me as soon as you have something.”

  “What are you gonna do in the meantime?” I asked.

  “In case you can't get anything from Glenda White, I have another lead I'm working on.”

  “Who?”

  Carter ushered me out the door. “No time to explain. You need to go. Call me as soon as you're done talking to Glenda.”

  * * *

  The sunshine and baby blue sky mocked my stormy disposition. I could feel my insides burning, my palms sweating on the steering wheel.

  I had to force myself to concentrate on the road. Saturday morning traffic on Route One North was light, but there were so many traffic lights that it took over half an hour.

  I tried desperately to stay focused on the task at hand, but the image of Max and Jennifer, sitting together on her couch, drinking wine into the wee hours of the morning … it made me sick to my stomach.

  Were Max and I done?

  I should have known it would happen eventually. I just didn't want it to happen like this.

  The Delray Beach Community Center was a bland, one-story concrete and glass building that looked like it used to be a hospital at one time. The neighborhood was sketchy at best, with low-income houses and apartments buildings and sparse vegetation. It was hard to believe that only a few blocks to the east, luxury condos and posh hotels and restaurants catered to the rich and famous.

  I parked in a lot to the left of the building.

  I searched the depths of my purse for some lipstick. With a shaky hand, I managed to swipe some color on my pale, cracked lips. I rubbed some color on my cheeks while I was at it. Not that it helped much. I still looked like hell.

  I got out of my car and proceeded into the building. In the foyer, a bulletin board announced meeting schedules and upcoming events.

  As I continued down the corridor, I noticed a middle-aged woman heading my way from the opposite direction. Her grey hair looked like a poodle, but her loose jowls and short, stalky build reminded me of a bulldog. A mixed breed.

  “Hello? Are you Sarah Woods?” she asked me in a friendly manner.

  “Oh, hi. Yes, you must be Glenda White.”

  “Well, that's me.” She placed a hand on her chest.

  “Actually, I was hoping to speak to you about a friend of mine who attends
the meetings here. Angela Foster. She just lost her father recently, and her mother a year ago.”

  Glenda tilted her head and listened to me with compassionate eyes. “Yes, of course I know Angela. You said you're a friend of hers?”

  “Yes. I'm really concerned about her. She's had a tough time and I wish I knew how to be more supportive of her.” I felt rotten lying to this nice, old lady, but I figured it was the only way she'd open up to me.

  “I have a few minutes,” she said. “Would you like to sit and chat?”

  I nodded.

  Glenda waddled down the corridor as I trailed behind. She couldn't have been taller than five feet, and she was about as round as she was tall.

  She invited me to sit at a table. Once we got settled, she folded her arms across her ample belly and looked intently at me. “How long have you and Angela been friends?”

  “I've known her family for a long time,” I said.

  Glenda nodded. “I know the family, too. I was Barbara's nurse in the months preceding her death.”

  “Oh,” I said, trying to hide my surprise. “Yes, I heard she had a nurse taking care of her. Is that how you and Angela met?”

  Her expression turned sullen. “Barbara Foster was a wonderful woman and I was honored to be her caretaker. Angela and I became friends during that time. After her mom passed, Angela came to me and wanted to be a part of my volunteer group. Now she travels all over Florida, hosting lectures at various communities and churches and has been responsible for a multitude of fundraisers to keep our program running.”

  “That's right,” I said. “I think I heard somewhere that you just received a very large donation, just last month.

  Glenda seemed confused. “I beg your pardon?”

  “A large anonymous donation in the vicinity of a hundred grand.” I said.

  She shook her head, clearly perplexed. “If we'd received such a donation, I'm unaware of it. Where did you get this information?”