She recalled his wife and her lover arm in arm. Either Paul had no clue or he was in denial. âI just meant, youâre here with me. How do you know sheâs not out with someone?â
He shrugged. âSheâd never do anything like that.â
Her eyebrows arched at his confidence. âYouâre sure?â
âOf course.â He looked at her and his eyes narrowed.
She took a deep breath and plunged forward. “I saw her with a man today, at Jewels by the Sea.”
He shook his head as he slipped his boots on. âIâve really got to get going. I’ll come by Saturday and help you go through Chad’s things. We’ll box it all up and get it out of here.”
She nodded. He was in denial, and was using her dead husband to distract her. He leaned down and pressed his lips against her forehead.
“Don’t do anything more until I’m here to help.” He rested his hand on the doorknob and said, âAnd donât eat all the rest of the ice cream tonight.â
She shrugged and leaned towards him. âNo promises.â Suddenly, without warning, Chad’s voice popped into her head, warning her about the calories. Pointing out the weight she’d gained. She pulled away, self-conscious.
His smile evaporated as he cocked his head and stared at her intently. Finally, he gave a little laugh and promised to talk to her soon.
After he left, she ferried their bowls to the kitchen. The garbage disposal churned when she dumped his ice cream down the drain. She shook her head. What a waste.
She filled the remainder of her week with work, trips to the Salvation Army and various other charities, but her time at home was anxious. The telephone didnât ring again until Friday night. She flipped through a guide on Acadia National Park, planning a day trip and the phone rang. She answered.
The first sound she heard was breathing.
âI know what really happened.â The naggingly familiar voice again. Something about the way he said “know.”
âWhat do you want?â she demanded.
This time the phone line didnât go dead.
25
She asked the question again, in the firmest, most confident voice she could muster. His breath filled the silence, and faint clicks jittered along the lines stretched between her and the mysterious caller.
âWhat do you want?â She repeated. She hated the tremor in her voice.
âI want the papers your husband had.â
Her eyes widened as she probed. âWhat papers?â
The disembodied voice hissed through the telephone, âYou know exactly what Iâm talking about. The find at Big Bear Cove. I know youâve got them and I want them before the old man dies.â
She hated feeling weak and vulnerable. Chad had done that to her enough to last a lifetime and she was determined not to continue her life that way. Her voice rose. âWho? What old man? What papers?”
“You know what I mean.” The caller barked a laugh, sarcastic and biting, then, “Get the stuff together and be ready for instructions.”
“I don’t have any papers!”
The line went dead. She stared at the buzzing handset. What was she going to do?
She hung up and noticed her hand shaking. Her fist clenched until the knuckles turned white. She hurried from room to room, and checked every window. She yanked the curtains closed and locked all the doors. Once satisfied she’d done all she could do, she dropped into her favorite chair and listened.
Every creak sounded like a footstep, branches scraping the siding of the house sounded like someone trying to raise a window, and the wind became a whisper. Her ears tingled with the strain of listening as she tried to discern real threats from imagined. She pulled a throw around her shoulders to calm her shivers.
Her stomach growled, loud in the quiet of the empty house.
She laughed self-consciously and padded down the hallway to the kitchen. The cheery yellow room chased the imaginary demons from her thoughts. She stood with the refrigerator door open as she debated whether to make something or go out. Though she craved a meal out at a nice restaurant down by the harbor, she couldnât bring herself to leave the house. It was too much of an ordeal. Not only was she afraid to leave â afraid that whoever was calling might be waiting for her â but worse than that, she was afraid to go alone. The thought of sitting at the Black Sails or Whoopie’s by herself, surrounded by couples focused on each other, terrified her.
One evening earlier in the week, she’d braved the Black Sails, armed with a paperback book as Dana suggested. It had been horrible. Seemed that everyone who walked through the door looked with her with pity, suspicion or a mixture of both. The book made a flimsy shield, useless at holding the world at armâs length.
She perused the shelves of the refrigerator, peeking over the jug of milk and behind the leftover pizza. She popped the lid open on the cottage cheese and sniffed, then immediately drew back at the sourness of it and tossed it in the trash. A bowl of cereal, eaten over the sink, served as dinner.
She swallowed the last scoop of cereal, then tipped the bowl up and gulped down the cold milk. The empty bowl sounded with a hollow clink when she placed it in the dishwasher, bits of cereal still clinging desperately to the side. Her sweet tooth wasn’t satisfied, so she pulled out the ice cream left that Paul brought over and dipped a few scoops into a clean bowl and drizzled chocolate syrup over it. Rocky Road was her favorite. He’d picked well. She moved into the living room and flipped on the news while she ate.
The evening news led with a story about a real estate mogul rushed to the hospital with chest pains. File footage of him with various presidents and senators flashed across the scene, and then the reporter said, âAnd a source close to the Board had confirmed that the company will be taken public if Mr. Woodson does not survive. He is staunchly opposed to such an offering, but it appears that his health may not allow him to stand in the way much longer.â
The screen switched to a man in silhouette who spoke anonymously, âMr. Woodson does not understand the speed with which companies must move in this day and age to keep up with the competition. There are several undeveloped properties on the outskirts of Acadia National Park that need to be developed as soon as possible in order to compete in the current economy.â
So that was August Woodson. Seemed like that name met her at every turn.
She flipped the television off and called her mother, which she hadnât done in weeks. As always, her mom couldn’t wait to gossip about kids she’d gone to high school with.
âAnd you remember Pam, that girl that was a year behind you? She had another baby!â
Though she usually enjoyed hearing about folks back home, this time it made her feel more isolated. She could feel herself shrinking as her mom continued. âAnd Romy was in charge of the high school madrigal, and Monty and Kim finally got married. Oh! Did I tell you that Sadie earned her black belt?â
After a pregnant pause, she said, âHoney, why donât you come back home?â
Andi mumbled something noncommittal, and her mother continued, âNo shame in moving home when youâre going through such a difficult time.â
Though Andi assured her she’d consider it, she knew she wouldn’t. Couldn’t. They talked for over an hour, long enough to keep the line tied up so no other calls could get through.
Later that night, she crawled into the big, empty bed. Hours later she woke with a start, and felt restless the rest of the night. The bed felt so big. She stretched to take up as much of it as possible, arms flung wide.
The days ran together now that they were in full vacation season. The job at the tourism center gave her a schedule with longer hours, and she perused the internet learning more about the history of the area and studying gemology. She made photocopies of some Chad’s papers and jotted notes in the margins.
The semiprecious gem industry thrived
in Maine, and the rock hounds took it very seriously. For many of them, it was more than a casual hobby â it was a second job, and their chance at the gem lottery. Casual rock hounds came in the visitorsâ center frequently, so her research served a dual purpose â she got better at her job while she pieced together the secret life that Chad had led.
Mildred at the Chamber office encouraged Andi’s research, and often emailed Andi links of interest to tourists. Andi straightened the racks of brochures, and rearranged them by geographic area. It wasnât an exciting job, but Andi found it intriguing and not as stressful as many jobs she could’ve gotten. More than once, she thanked her lucky stars she’d taken this job and not had to work for a private investigator - the only other job she’d found in the want ads that she was even remotely qualified for.
She stared out the window at the harbor, watched the boats drift in and out, the dock workers hefting crates, the tourists sauntering along the waterfront. Watched life pass by as she imagined what it would be like to share her home and life with Paul, waking up together, spending Sundays in bed reading the newspaper and sipping coffee.
If Caren were out of the picture, it would become reality.
Even at home, her thoughts revolved around Paul. She used her days off to scout and research the Island so she’d sound knowledgeable when they spoke. With Paul’s help, she cleansed her home of things that reminded her of Chad. Bit by bit, pictures of Paul replaced pictures of Chad. Her new guy was shy about having his picture taken, but one of her favorites was one taken on a trip to Cadillac Mountain. The day began with the sun shining brightly, but as they drove up the rocky trail the fog rolled in, shrouding the evergreens in gray. The cold mist reached them even inside the Jeep. At the top, they got out to admire natureâs majesty. Being up there was like being in another world. The large outcropping of rock was smooth and rolling, a perfect perch to see in all directions. Wispy white clouds stretched through the blue sky like bits of cotton candy. Thereâs nothing like sucking cool, crisp air deep into the lungs.
That day, she’d been standing on a bald knob of rock when she snapped the picture. Normally, he would put up a hand or turn away when she had the camera, but that day he was focused on the myriad of rocks strewn around the summit and hadn’t even noticed. He squatted down to pick up a rock as he often did while they were up in the interior of the island. In the picture, the rocky path snaked down the mountain behind him towards the blue-green sea. That picture gave her chills. It reminded her of how she felt up there, surrounded by the awesome power of God and nature. Nothing else compared to that, certainly nothing back home in Missouri, and the fact that she and Paul shared that experience meant a lot to her.
The drive home had been tense, though. Just after she’d snapped that photo, Paul glanced at his watch and cursed. “Damn. I didn’t realize how late it is. We’ve got to get going.”
As they walked towards the Jeep, Andi asked, “The day’s still young. I think I’ll start cleaning stuff out today.”
Paul’s head snapped to his left and he frowned at her. “What stuff?”
“Chad’s things. There’s no sense in putting it off any longer.” Andi stepped up into the Jeep.
“I’ve got to go to a dinner party with Caren tonight.” He turned the key in the ignition and the engine rumbled to life. “I’ll see if I can get away tomorrow. I don’t want you doing that on your own. Just leave it to me.”
“No.” She shook her head. “It’s not your place. I’ll take care of it.”
“No!” His knuckles whitened as he gripped the steering wheel. His chest swelled as he sucked in air, then he huffed it out. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to yell. But, seriously, I don’t want you going through anything until I’m right there with you, helping you.”
His outburst that day shocked her, but she’d seen much worse from her husband. She decided to ignore his raised voice and focus on the fun she had with him.
Their excursions throughout Mount Desert Island provided great pictures to frame and display. The trips gave her a welcome break from the reality of being a young widow. She even enjoyed the research. It also fit in well with her job with the Chamber of Commerce, so she told herself it was for work and not solely because of Paul.
After spending her day off framing recent snapshots, she crawled in bed feeling satisfied. It had been several days since she’d heard from the mysterious caller. Though she still turned Chadâs pillow sideways every night to mimic a body, and ate most meals over the sink, she held out hope that being alone would be temporary. Growing up and getting married and having a family was the proper way of things. Being alone simply was not an option.
The next morning she parked and walked into the tourism center, surprised to find it nearly empty, with the exception of Mildred. The older woman perched on the stool behind the counter like a bird ready to take flight, a deep frown settled into her wrinkled brow. She stood when Andi pushed through the glass door.
Andi greeted her cheerfully, but the other woman’s impassive face caught her off guard. Mildred snapped, âIâm sorry to have to be the one to tell you this, Andi, but your services are no longer needed.â
Andi stopped dead in her tracks, and blinked. Her jaw dropped and her lips moved, but it took several attempts before intelligible words came forth, âWhat? Iâm being fired?â
Mildred’s jaw jutted forward stubbornly and she stared at Andi through narrowed eyes. âYes, Iâm afraid so. I am here to make sure you get your things and turn your key in.â
Andi ducked her head, and felt her cheeks burn with embarrassment. This job had become an integral part of her life, part of her schedule, part of what kept things normal. Panic began to rise. She needed this job. Especially with her house for sale, and no credit cards. How would she pay her bills? How could she pay for food? A roof over her head? âWhat? I donât understand why-â
Mildred looked over her glasses, then leaned forward and whispered, âI was instructed not to go into details, but there was a report that you’re skimming money from the map sales.â
Andi laughed and looked around. Was it a joke? She’d never heard such an absurd accusation. âMap sales? The maps we sell for seventy-five cents? Someone thinks I am âskimming moneyâ from those sales?â
The other woman shrugged and finally looked at Andi, her watery blue eyes filled with disappointment. Andi abhorred pity, and refused to be the subject of it. But the poor lady probably did pity her, if she thought Andi’s desperation had driven her to steal what amounted to loose change.
Andi’s world crumbled around her. Her chest hurt and she felt as if she’d been kicked in the gut. She squeezed her eyes shut and took shallow breaths, then pulled her keys from her pocket. Her fingers shook as she struggled to separate the split silver ring, then slipped the worn office key off and tossed it onto the counter.
All her hard work had been for naught. Her first job and she failed. Her temper flared. She’d done nothing wrong. Someone had set her up. But who?
No one at work knew about her and Paul, but she wondered if he knew she’d been fired. She walked the waterfront for a bit, breathing in the salty air and listening to the groan of the piers as boats pulled and tugged on them. She wove through the throngs of tourists, oblivious to them as they jostled her. She could ask Paul, see what he knew, if he knew who had accused her. The sea gulls swooped around her, cawing and squealing. Waves crashed against the rocks.
By the time she returned to her Jeep, she’d decided not to ask him. Though she told herself she didnât want to drag him into her problems, the fact was, she didnât want him to know that she’d lost her job. That she’d been accused of such a horrible, absurd crime. After worrying that she’d be accused of killing her husband, this turn of events seemed like a cruel joke.
She drove home, determined to find another job. Hopefully she wouldn’t have to end up waitressing, but if that was all she co
uld find, that’s what she’d do. She spent the rest of the morning looking through the newspaper and calling about jobs in the classifieds, with no luck. With her frustration mounting, she turned her attention to the job of cleaning, dusting and vacuuming and scrubbing, determined to reclaim some sense of normalcy. By that point, she should’ve known normal was impossible. Shortly before noon, her doorbell chimed. She went to the front door, peeked through the peephole, and debated on whether or not to open the door.
Detective Johnson stood on her porch, glaring at her.
26
He rapped his knuckles against the wood, then punched the doorbell again. She sagged against the wall, then straightened her back, squared her shoulders and opened the door.
He didnât bother to smile. âMrs. Adams, may I come in?â
She stepped back, but made no move to leave the entryway. He pulled his sunglasses off, cocked his head sideways and stared at her. She fought the urge to collapse into a heap of quivering flesh. He shifted his weight and cocked his head the other way. He blinked first, and she raised her eyebrows.
Finally, he said, âI hear you lost your job today.â
Her eyes narrowed, then she remembered that Mildred was friends with the Sheriff’s secretary, the town gossip. âGuess that means Tess knows.â
It was his turn to nod. âThat it does. Want to tell me your side of the story?â
She feigned indifference and shrugged. âThere is no story. Iâm not sure what the real reason is I was let go, but I can tell you I certainly wouldnât risk my only means of income by stealing a few measly cents here and there. So unless youâve got proof enough to charge me with something, I need to get back to looking for a job.â
“Fair enough.” He took a step towards the door, then turned back and said, âThereâs been a police report filed on the matter and Iâll be checking into some things. Donât leave Buccaneer Bay without checking with me first. I may need to ask you a few questions.â
Fatal Impulse: A Widow's Web Novel Page 16
