Pumpkin Roll

by Josi S. Kilpack

  Jane made a right-hand turn into the Forest Hills station. “Here we are,” she said, pulling up to the curb and shifting into park. She turned to look at Sadie, who reached for her purse from the floor of the car. “You’ll call me when you’re done?” Jane said. “Or anytime during the meeting that you need backup? I’ll call AAA and get the tire taken care of in a jiffy.”

  Sadie nodded, realizing that the tire might be exactly what she needed to keep Jane out of this. She felt bad for finding a silver lining in Jane’s frustrating situation, but it winked at her all the same. Jane wasn’t one for following Sadie’s directions, and Sadie did not want Jane to ruin this meeting. “Don’t follow me, okay? Let me do this my way.”

  “You told me not to and I won’t. Be safe though.”

  “I will,” Sadie said, opening the door.

  “I won’t see Shawn if you don’t want me to,” Jane said, stopping Sadie’s exit. Sadie turned to look at her, the door open a few inches. Jane’s expression was sincere if not a little bit vulnerable. “I can tell you’re uncomfortable with it.”

  Sadie felt like a jerk. Jane had been helpful on many cases, and she’d come to Sadie’s aid here in Boston and was offering her help any way she could. “It’s not that,” she said, softening. “I guess maybe I feel . . . left out. He’s my son. I like to know what’s going on in his life.”

  “We’ve only talked on the phone and through e-mail,” Jane said. “I haven’t seen him in person since March. But you’ve raised a remarkable boy.”

  “He is remarkable,” Sadie said, glad to know there hadn’t been more happening behind her back. She wanted to say something about how Shawn was also sweet and naïve and so different from Jane, but there was no way to say that without being rude so she just smiled. “I’m not against it,” Sadie said. “But it will take some getting used to.”

  Jane shrugged one shoulder and smiled softly. “No worries. I’m in no hurry. We’re just . . . getting to know one another right now, that’s all.”

  “Okay,” Sadie said, pushing the door open all the way and feeling better. It was still hard for her to accept a relationship between them, but knowing the truth of it gave her a sense of peace and inclusion. “Thanks for clarifying, and thanks for the ride and everything else. I don’t know what I’d have done today without your help.” Of course there were a few things she was unhappy about—like going through Gabrielle’s car and running Mr. Forsberk off—but for the most part, Jane had been a huge asset.

  “That’s what I’m here for,” Jane said. “Call me when you finish talking to Gabrielle.”

  “I will,” Sadie said.

  Jane was pulling away when Sadie realized the extra few minutes of discussion had put her in even more of a time crunch. She practically ran for the train, glad she was familiar with the process so she could pay her fare quickly and still make it through the doors before they closed. She collapsed in a seat and caught her breath as the train moved forward. Once she felt settled in, she opened her purse and pulled out her phone, relieved it was there since she hadn’t taken the time to double-check everything after her purse was returned to her at the police station. She thought about calling Pete, but decided to text him so as not to interrupt anything.

  Call me when you can! Big day. Are you okay?

  A few minutes later, the train hissed to a stop at the Back Bay station, and Sadie took a deep breath when the doors opened. She stood up slowly, allowing her fellow passengers to lead the way, and squared her shoulders for whatever might be ahead.

  Here goes nothing.

  Chapter 35

  Germaine’s felt more like a pub than a café. The walls were exposed brick with huge abstract paintings on the tall walls and a varnished concrete floor. The tables and chairs were made of a thick, dark wood, and a bar spread across one end of the room.

  Sadie chose a table for two with a good view of the door and looked over the menu before setting it aside. She was too unsettled to eat and kept going over her meeting with the detective. She was uncomfortable both with what she had said and what she hadn’t said, and while she was proud for having not lied, she hadn’t told Detective Lucille about this meeting. Granted, the detective hadn’t asked, but Sadie was already imagining how she could explain having left it out. There could be no explanation other than the fact that Sadie had wanted to meet with Gabrielle and telling the police would have made that impossible.

  She looked at her watch: 9:09. Being this early wasn’t efficient, but she hadn’t been able to risk being late by taking a later train, and since she wasn’t big on the nightlife of the city, there wasn’t anything else to do but come here and wait for the meeting with Gabrielle, which, she hoped, would resolve whatever issues were left to be resolved. She wondered how Mrs. Wapple was doing. She wondered if Jane was still mad about not coming. She wondered if Pete was avoiding her.

  While she waited, she scribbled down a possible timeline of events, starting with Bark being hit by the car and ending with Mrs. Wapple being found in her bedroom. It wasn’t until she finished that she realized there was no mention of the paranormal stuff on her list. The more details she learned that were based on fact, the more everything felt separate. Like two different things at play. After pondering that for a minute, she wrote out a list of questions she wanted to ask Gabrielle, ordered a Diet Coke to keep her awake, and started making a list of places she still needed to see on her trip, assuming that tomorrow she would wake up with a huge weight off her shoulders, ready to debrief with Pete, see her son, and be a tourist again. Shawn called but she let it go to voice mail before sending him a text that she’d call him later. He replied almost immediately.

  I’m on my way to Boston. Should be there by 2 am.

  Then she had to call him.

  “What do you mean you’re on your way?” Sadie asked when he picked up. “You have class tomorrow.”

  “I talked to Jane. She said she’s really worried about you. She thinks you’re in trouble.”

  “I’m not in trouble,” Sadie said, annoyed that Jane would go to Shawn. “I’m just fine, and you need to go to class.”

  “I’m already in Auburn,” Shawn said. “I made sure not to call before I was too far to go back.”

  And Jane didn’t tell me? Sadie thought. That girl took far too many liberties.

  “If it were me in this situation, you’d have been there two days ago.”

  “I already finished college!” Sadie retorted.

  “I’ll see you in a few hours, Mom. Text me the name of the hotel when you’re done being mad at me.” He hung up, and Sadie dropped the phone on the table before crossing her arms over her chest. Did everyone feel her so incapable that they had to circle around her? Was that Jane’s motivation too?

  She went back to her list in hopes of distracting herself. It worked a little too well, and the next time she checked her watch it was 9:41. She looked up at the heavy wood and glass door in case Gabrielle happened to be standing there waiting for Sadie to see her. She wasn’t there, though. Instead a couple was leaving, him holding the door for her as she put on her hip-length jacket.

  Sadie scanned the bar, which was fuller than it had been when she arrived, but Gabrielle wasn’t among the crowd that, thankfully, wasn’t loud and obnoxious. Sadie went back to her list of things left to do in Boston, adding Walden Pond and taking off Fenway Park, though that might take some explaining to Pete and Shawn. Her list didn’t distract her as much as it had before, and she checked her watch every few minutes, scanning the bar again every time she looked up. With no sign of Gabrielle, Sadie texted her.

  Are you coming?

  When two minutes passed without a response, she called. It went to voice mail. Sadie left a message and then bit her lip when the clock above the bar hit ten o’clock straight up. She did not have the time or patience to be stood up right now!

  Sadie called directory assistance and requested the number for the gallery. Someone picked up but then hung up before Sadie had
a chance to say anything. Sadie pulled the phone away from her ear to verify that she had full service and her phone hadn’t simply dropped the call. She had four full bars. She called back and this time the line was busy. Sadie started to worry, even though she tried not to. She tried the gallery again—still busy—and called Gabrielle’s cell again—no answer. After thirty seconds of planning, Sadie left five dollars to cover the tip and the cost of her drink, which she hadn’t even finished, and headed for the door. On the street, she sent Gabrielle a text.

  Is everything okay? I’m coming over.

  Then she put up the collar of her coat and pulled out her street map, quickly calculating the shortest walk to the gallery. Her muscles ached, and her head felt heavy on her shoulders. The fog was less than comforting, but Sadie would take fog over rain or snow. Sadie walked as fast as she could and hunkered down in her jacket to fend off the increasing cold. This had been one of the longest days of her life. She hoped it wouldn’t stretch out too much longer, but she couldn’t go home with this unfinished.

  Chapter 36

  Sadie reached the gallery in six or seven minutes—bless the laminated street map and a heightened sense of concern—and looked through the beveled glass of the gallery’s front door. Other than a frosty light coming from the back of the building, she couldn’t see anything. She pulled on the handle, fully expecting it to be locked, but the thumb latch depressed easily and she pulled the door open.

  “Ms. Marrow?” she called out as she moved across the threshold and adjusted the strap of her purse on her shoulder. Sadie could smell the fruity vapor of the wine from the night’s reception, but the stillness of the gallery made the building feel barren. Sadie shivered even though it was warmer inside than it had been outside. She wondered if she should call the police, but she didn’t want them to know she was working on the case. Hopefully there was just a misunderstanding about the time of their meeting.

  “Gabrielle,” she called louder as she stepped forward on the polished hardwood of the gallery. The light was coming from a room up ahead and to the right, but she could hear nothing, which made her stay silent too. Gabrielle was here—so why couldn’t Sadie hear her moving papers or talking on the phone?

  She kept her glance darting ahead, cautious of the dark corners that seemed to be encroaching on her. The paintings on the walls looked like open holes in which anything could be hiding. The similarities to her discovery of Delores yesterday—dark building, one light drawing her in—made her shudder from déjà vu.

  “Gabrielle,” she called again. “Are you here? It’s Sadie Hoffmiller.” Finally, she reached the portion of wall just outside the lit room—an office. Sadie peeked around the doorjamb, giving herself a moment to assess the scene before she planned her next move.

  The first thing that caught her eye was hair, cascades of it pouring over the desk as though sprouting from the veneer itself. An instant later, however, she realized it was Gabrielle Marrow, facedown at her desk with her long hair and array of extensions billowing out around her as though poetically arranged just so.

  “Gabrielle,” Sadie gasped as she dropped her purse by the doorway and moved forward. She saw an empty wineglass a few inches from where Gabrielle’s hand lay outstretched from beneath her hair, fingers gracefully curved as though she had been reaching for one more drink when she passed out.

  Sadie put her hand on Gabrielle’s back, and Gabrielle’s body shifted beneath her. The shift must have hit the mouse or a key on the keyboard because the computer screen in front of Gabrielle came to life, capturing Sadie’s attention completely.

  The background was white—a document—with tight lines of perfect letters. Sadie leaned in, anxious to read what Gabrielle had been typing.

  I have done all I can to leave the past behind me, but it continues to claw its way into my life until I can no longer abide its toll. Let Delores heal and find whatever measure of existence is her due, but do not tell her I’m the one who nearly took that away from her. Let her believe I simply faded—as I have surely been doing all my life despite my vibrant attempts at normalcy—and simply disappeared. I love her, in my way, but with her in my life, there is no room left for me, and I would rather end my own life at the height of my success than renegotiate the terms.

  Sincerely,

  Gabrielle Marrow

  By the time Sadie finished, her heart was in her throat. Suicide? She reached under Gabrielle’s hair enough for her fingers to find where Gabrielle’s pulse should be. Her eyes fell on the orange prescription bottle tucked beneath Gabrielle’s arm. Sadie didn’t realize she’d been holding her breath until she felt Gabrielle’s weak heartbeat under her fingers.

  “Wake up, Gabrielle,” Sadie said, shaking the woman’s shoulders. She didn’t respond. “Oh, please, don’t do this.”

  When Sadie still couldn’t rouse her, she left Gabrielle and fumbled for her phone in her purse. While waiting for the call to connect, she heard something from the direction of the gallery and for the first time wondered if she and Gabrielle were the only two people here. Where was Hansel? Had the police found Mr. Forsberk? The furniture and filing cabinets were pressed up against the walls of the tiny room; there was no place to hide. But maybe she hadn’t heard anything at all, maybe it was just her own blood rushing in her ears. She moved toward the doorway, listening intently. A swish? Was it really?

  “Nine-one-one. What’s your emergency?”

  “Yes, my name is Sadie Hoffmiller,” she said, turning back to Gabrielle. Sadie reached out and touched her hair, willing her to be okay. “I’m at the Bastian Gallery on Newbury Street and—” Suddenly the room went dark except for the glow of the computer monitor. Sadie turned quickly toward the doorway and screamed as something white came directly toward her face. She could barely make out the edges of the object and raised her hands to block it. The white apparition drove into her, propelled by a force she couldn’t see. The phone clattered to the floor. She smelled something chemical—sharp and metallic—before the whiteness mashed against her face.

  Cloth. Soft. Wet.

  She grabbed an arm holding the smelly cloth and tried to pull it away from her face. In the process, she fell against the filing cabinet and pain sparked through her hip as she slid to the floor, the cloth still held fast against her mouth and nose. Relentless. She was partially propped against the filing cabinet, her clogs sliding on the hardwood floor as she tried to get her footing. The edges of her thoughts began to get fuzzy, and she realized the intent of the cloth against her face wasn’t simply to prevent her from seeing who was holding it. She tried to hold her breath, but it was too late. Something was slowing . . . her thoughts and . . . taking away . . . her ability . . . to . . .

  Chapter 37

  Sadie awoke with a splitting headache to find herself in a box. There was a humming and bumping beneath her ear, which was pressed upon cheap carpet. It smelled like old motor oil and new carpet.

  Despite the smell and her aching head, she took deep breaths, then coughed when her lungs protested against the dank air. It took a few more breaths for her to realize she was moving. It took several more seconds and the honk of a horn for her mind to clear and process the clues that told her she was in a car—or rather, the trunk of one. Despite her drugged state, panic began to radiate through her body, causing her heart to race and her head to pound even harder. She had to get out of here! She tried to lift her head only to have dizziness swirl around her like a vortex. Her head fell back to the carpet with a thump, and bile rose in her throat. Her head was still pounding, her heart racing as the panic threatened to consume her completely.

  You have got to calm down, she told herself, and clenched her eyes shut while forcing herself to take a deep breath, fighting the urge to gag. She held the breath and then exhaled it slowly, consciously relaxing her feet and hands, then her arms and legs, her hips and shoulders. Her hands were tied together in front of her, which initiated another wave of panic before she forced herself to relax again.
She knew she didn’t have a chance if she couldn’t focus her thoughts.

  How had she gotten here?

  She remembered finding Gabrielle. She remembered dialing 911 and . . . then it all came back to her. The note. The panic. The spectral whiteness coming toward her and then . . . nothing. Sadie felt her throat thicken as she realized she hadn’t completed the call to 911. Panic seized her chest again, but she pushed it away with the absolute knowledge that she had to get out of here. She had to focus.

  She kept her eyes closed and took deep breaths of the musty air, forcing herself to relax her breathing and her heart rate while focusing her thoughts on her own survival. Once she had herself under control and could think rationally, she began talking herself through the situation as any reasonable person would do.

  Unfortunately, you are tied up and locked in the trunk of the car.

  Fortunately, you are not unconscious anymore.

  She felt better already, and moved on to the next affirmation.