“But not probable,” Pete said, unable to give in so easily. “Everything would have to go perfectly, with precise timing. They would have been within a few feet of us much of the time and moving around without a sound.” He was hesitant to draw a conclusion, and Sadie let him continue processing for another thirty seconds, but her patience was wearing thin. If he could accept this possibility, then it gave them something solid to consider, to build on. He shook his head. “I don’t see how it could be possible.”
Oh, he was stubborn! “If not that, then the only explanation I can come up with is that there is something spectral going on.” She knew he was not open to that idea—neither was she—but she hoped presenting him with that alternative would encourage him to give her suggested chronology more consideration.
It worked. He straightened his shoulders and folded his arms. He looked her in the eye as though challenging her. “So assuming someone knew the exact layout of the house, orchestrated everything perfectly, and slipped out without us seeing them, who was it?” Pete asked.
“The only person I can think of is Mrs. Wapple,” Sadie said, though that wasn’t true. She took a breath and decided to lay it all out. “Or her sister, Gabrielle.”
“Why would her sister do this?”
Sadie hated being questioned by him, hated the detective-face that had taken over his features. “All I know is she’s determined not to listen to my concerns about Mrs. Wapple. Maybe she’s hiding something. Maybe there’s something about her sister she doesn’t want us to know and she’s trying to scare us away.”
“It’s like the plot of a stupid Scooby-Doo episode,” Pete said, pushing both hands through his hair.
Sadie tried not to be offended; she liked Scooby-Doo. At the same time, this wasn’t the first time the sleuthing dog and his friends had been brought into discussions about her mysteries. She didn’t appreciate the comparison, even if she found the cartoon relatively entertaining. It had been one of Breanna’s favorites, and Sadie had felt a renewed kinship to Velma over the last year.
“Except that leaving the hat in the hallway Monday night was more like an invitation than a skull-and-crossbones,” Sadie added, just to keep things complicated. “There’s no Scooby-Doo episode with that plot point in it.”
“So maybe Gabrielle is as crazy as her sister, but can play the part of a normal person better than her sister.”
“A psychopath?” Sadie asked, connecting the dots to the conversation they’d had Sunday night. She sat down in the chair across the table from him. “You’re more familiar with the characteristics than I am. Is there anything else about the sister that fits?”
“Justifying bad behavior,” Pete said reluctantly. “And psychopaths hate to be questioned because they assume whatever they do is right.”
“Gabrielle fits that,” Sadie said. “She refused to listen to my concerns about her sister but agreed to meet me before kicking me out.”
Pete nodded and stared at the tabletop, deep in thought. “Psychopaths often have a difficult time anticipating the consequences of their actions because they assume that they are too smart. The rules don’t apply to them, so why should they fear the punishments?”
“I could keep chasing her down, if I wanted to. Kicking me out of the hotel wasn’t the most effective way to get rid of me.”
“It’s impossible to diagnose a person based on such limited information,” Pete added. “It can take years, and a long behavioral history, before trained psychiatrists can determine psychopathic patterns.”
“We’re not diagnosing,” Sadie said with a shrug. “We’re just considering possibilities. And, quite frankly, Mrs. Wapple doesn’t really seem . . . capable. The sister’s the only other person involved in this situation, and she has not been reasonable to deal with on any level.”
Pete didn’t say anything for a few seconds, and when he did speak it wasn’t what Sadie was expecting to hear. “I’m going to call social services,” he said, pushing back from the table. “Whatever—whoever—is behind this might back off when we stop being involved and turn it over to people who can really do something for Mrs. Wapple. We’ll let them figure out what Mrs. Wapple or her sister is trying to hide. This is bigger than us, and we need to get out of it.”
Pete left the room, and Sadie kept her disappointment in his quick decision to herself. A moment later, she heard him shut the door to his bedroom. While waiting for Pete to return with an update, she alphabetized the canned vegetables in the pantry, and then decided to organize them by expiration date instead. She looked out the window every minute or so to make sure the boys were still playing, glad they were working out so much energy. A part of her wished she could do the same. She could feel her frustration building. Frustration with what had happened last night, frustration that the trip was going this direction, and even frustration toward Pete. She felt like he was leaving her out, or trying to protect her. Whatever his motive, he wasn’t sharing all his thoughts the way she was sharing hers. She didn’t like it.
Thirteen and a half minutes later, give or take a few seconds, Pete returned to the kitchen, notebook in hand.
“So?” she asked, meeting him in the middle of the tiny kitchen and looking at him expectantly.
He looked up as though surprised to see her there. “Oh, yeah, I talked to a case worker and gave them the information. They said they’d send someone over in the next few days.”
“Days?” Sadie said. “That’s too long.”
Pete shrugged, an entirely too casual gesture for Sadie right now. “The wheels of bureaucracy move slowly, especially in a big city like this. We already knew that would probably happen.”
“And you’re not bothered by that?” Sadie asked as her frustration broke through the surface. “This woman is sick, and she’s in pain. We’re just supposed to sit back and twiddle our thumbs?”
Pete’s jaw tightened, but he quickly reset his neutral expression as he tossed the notebook on the table. “We need to go somewhere for a few hours,” he said, shoving his hands in the pockets of his jeans. “Get out of the house and clear our heads. Where should we go?”
“That’s it?” Sadie asked, not wanting to change the subject. “You’re not going to dialogue this with me?”
Pete blinked at her. “We’re trying to make sense of things that don’t make sense. It’s an exercise in futility.”
“And we’ll never make sense of them if you shrug your shoulders and pretend it didn’t happen.” She paused, not wanting to lose her temper. “Maybe we need to call the police about last night. Maybe they can help us make sense of things.”
“I am the police,” Pete said, sharply enough that Sadie startled a little. He must have heard the edge too, because he shook his head. “We’re not calling the police,” he said evenly. His jaw tightened again.
“You’re in the middle of this, Pete. They might be the objective perspective we need to figure this out.”
She was upsetting him and she watched his chest expand as he took a deep breath. He pointed out the kitchen window to where the boys were playing in the backyard and lowered his voice while taking a step toward her. He didn’t sound angry and the edge in his voice had softened, but his words were sincere. “I have three little boys I’m supposed to be taking care of, Sadie. My son’s children. And there is something really scary going on in their house. I don’t know what to do; I don’t know what to believe. I don’t know if we should leave the house and go to a hotel, or if I should call Jared and tell him to come home.” He crossed his arms over his chest and looked at the floor while shaking his head. He took a deep breath before meeting her eyes. “Calling the police about hats and lights going off and on will have them rolling their eyes. Nothing has been taken, no one’s been hurt or threatened, there is no proof of a crime, and things are just weird enough to make us look like a bunch of overzealous hicks caught up in pre-Halloween fantasies.” He stopped for a breath. “More important than that, however, is that at some point Jared
and Heather are going to come home, and I’ll need to tell them what’s going on—and I have no idea what that is. You want to discuss every possibility, but I don’t see anything that makes sense. I can’t believe something paranormal is happening, but I can’t believe anyone would set this up either. I just don’t know, okay? I don’t know. And that’s the scariest thing that could ever happen to me.”
Sadie felt her frustration fade in the wake of his vulnerability. He must have read it in her face because he seemed to relax too.
Pete continued. “I just want to keep things as normal as possible for the boys, okay? I don’t want them to get upset. That’s all I really care about right now. We’ll buy an eyebolt for both doors and maybe have another slumber party. I just want to know the boys are safe, okay? That’s all I can really focus on right now.”
Sadie nodded her understanding, realizing that part of what Pete meant, but didn’t say, was that he felt he could protect them from whatever was happening. That’s what he did—he kept people safe—and yet his foundation must feel unstable under his feet right now. He wore a zippered jacket over his T-shirt, and Sadie wondered if the jacket was concealing his shoulder harness and gun. She held his eyes for a couple of seconds, reading the fear, anguish, and discomfort there. It was the pleading in his expression that helped her make the decision to follow his lead. These were his grandchildren, it was his son’s house, and she was here to support him.
She still didn’t understand why he didn’t want to call the police—so what if they thought it was silly; they might be able to help—but it was obviously something Pete didn’t want to do. Maybe his being a cop made it complicated somehow, or maybe there was something else holding him back. She amended the thought as soon as it entered her head. There was nothing suspicious in Pete’s behavior. He understood law enforcement better than she ever could, which meant that not calling the Boston PD must be the right decision. She would support him in dealing with the situation this way, even if she didn’t understand why he was so determined. At least for now.
“I bet the boys would like the Franklin Park Zoo,” Sadie suggested, willing to change the subject now. “I know Kalan would be disappointed not to go, but maybe we can make it up to him. Breanna told me the zoo has a new baby gorilla.”
Pete put his hands in his front pockets, his expression unreadable. She sensed that he was embarrassed by his monologue; it wasn’t like him to share his insecurities so easily. She moved toward him and hugged him, rubbing his back in order to comfort him while at the same time verifying the strap of his shoulder harness. She wondered if the zoo allowed concealed handguns and could only assume he’d gotten the proper clearance to carry a concealed weapon in a state other than the one his license was issued in. She reminded herself again, He’s a police detective. He knows how to handle these things.
“I like gorillas,” Pete said dryly when she pulled back.
Sadie laughed and kissed him quickly on the lips. “Let’s feed these boys a quick lunch and get out of here, okay?”
Whitty Baked Beans
½ pound diced crispy bacon
½ pound ground beef, browned and drained
1 medium onion, chopped
1 (15-ounce) can butter beans, drained*
1 (16-ounce) can kidney beans, drained
1 (16-ounce) can pork and beans, undrained
⅔ cup packed brown sugar
½ cup ketchup
1 tablespoon prepared mustard
2 tablespoons apple cider vinegar
2 tablespoons molasses
½ to 1 teaspoon Worcestershire sauce
Fry bacon, remove from pan, and drain. Add ground beef to the same pan and brown with onion. (You can also use extra bacon or kielbasa in place of hamburger.)
Combine all ingredients in a slow cooker. Mix well and cook 1 hour on high or 3 to 4 hours on low. Turn cooker to low or “keep warm” until ready to eat. Refrigerate leftovers.
Serves 10 as a side dish, or 6 as a meal.
*Butter beans are large, flat, yellow beans that give this recipe a nice variety. Feel free to substitute another type of bean if you don’t like the texture of butter beans. Great Northern beans or black beans make a good substitution. For a less saucy dish, add an additional can of drained beans of your choice.
Chapter 15
The zoo was cold but fun—or at least it was as fun as possible for two people feeling as burdened as Sadie and Pete were. Like the rest of the city, the zoo was decked out in Halloween paraphernalia—spiderwebs stretched across buildings and hundreds of pumpkins, cornstalks, and creepy characters peeked through windows. Sadie updated Shawn on the latest news while Pete took the boys through the reptile house. She and Shawn were just getting to the brainstorming phase of the discussion when Shawn realized he was late for class.
The boys ran from one exhibit to another for almost two hours before the cold, the wind, and sheer exhaustion took their toll. Sadie took several pictures of the baby gorilla for Breanna, and Pete bought both boys a four-inch plastic replica from the gift shop. He purchased a larger one for Kalan, who would not be happy to have missed the field trip.
On the way home, they stopped for hot chocolate at a little mom-and-pop diner, and then Sadie and the boys waited in the parking lot of a hardware store while Pete bought two eyebolts, one for each door, and five pumpkins for a carving contest when Kalan got home from school. Taking steps toward the boys’ safety seemed to lift Pete’s spirits—and Sadie’s. They would be safe tonight, Sadie was sure of it, and the pumpkins would be a good distraction, even if pumpkin guts were one of Sadie’s least favorite things to handle.
Both Chance and Fig fell asleep on the ride home from the hardware store. Sadie looked out the passenger window and watched Boston come and go between the trees that were bending under in the wind, wishing she felt more settled than she did. Loose ends drove her crazy, and there were so many loose ends snapping in the breeze that she found it hard to concentrate on anything else. They pulled into the garage and Sadie reached down to undo her seat belt. Pete’s warm hand on hers made her pause.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered.
“For?”
“For being distant. It’s a problem I have when a simple solution isn’t simple. I just have to keep things . . . logical.”
Sadie stared at him. “I can understand that,” she said, relieved. He gave her hand a squeeze and pushed the button to release her seat belt just as her cell phone rang.
Pete let himself out of the van while she dug through her purse and pulled out her phone. She didn’t recognize the phone number but the area code was local, which piqued her curiosity. “Hello,” she said, opening the passenger door just as Pete rolled back the side door of the minivan.
“Hello? Is this Mrs. Hoffman?” a woman asked.
Why did everyone mess up her last name? It wasn’t hard. “This is Sadie Hoffmiller,” she said with emphasis.
“Oh, sorry, Mrs. Hoffmiller. This is Gabrielle Marrow.”
Sadie sat upright, one foot out of the car and one still in. She couldn’t think of anything to say before Gabrielle continued. “I’m sorry I missed you at the hotel last night, and I’ve been—”
“Missed me?” Sadie said automatically, putting both feet back into the car so that she could properly focus on the phone call.
“I looked for you in the lounge for a few minutes before returning to my dinner.” Her tone was accusatory, as though determined to see Sadie as having complicated her evening. This woman had some serious issues, and Sadie thought again of the definition of a psychopath: someone who was willing to do anything for what they wanted. What did Gabrielle want? How was Sadie in the way? Why was she calling?
“Really,” Sadie said carefully, trying to figure out the game this woman was playing. Maybe she didn’t know the security guard told Sadie why she was being kicked out. Or maybe she had too much wine at her banquet and was making something up to fill in the blank spaces. Or maybe she was just pl
ain crazy.
“Look, I know we got off to a rough start,” Gabrielle said before Sadie could think of a response that didn’t involve screaming. Gabrielle’s voice sounded professional but tired, as though she had to make this call but wished she didn’t and wanted it to just go away. “I’ve got an artist reception at the gallery tomorrow night,” she continued, “and I’m not at the top of my game right now. Actually, I haven’t been at the top of my game for several weeks and—”
“I know you had me kicked out of the hotel.” Sadie was running out of patience and tired of trying to come up with a politically correct way to have this conversation. “And I don’t appreciate you pretending it was otherwise.”
Pumpkin Roll Page 13
