by Wanda Dyson
He continued down the hall and glanced into his parents’ room. It was empty. He passed the bathroom and the linen closet, stopping in the doorway of the third bedroom, which had been his parents’ TV room for as long as he could remember.
This is where they all came to relax after dinner. His father would watch the news and then Bonanza or Marcus Welby, M.D., while his mother darned socks, embroidered pillows, or crocheted afghans for every room in the house. JJ would stretch out on that carpet and do his homework, page through his comics, or read a mystery novel.
“I didn’t hear you come in, dear.” His mother lifted her cheek for a kiss as she dragged the vacuum out of the room. A dust cloth was stuffed in the front pocket of her apron. He wondered if anyone else in the world still wore those bibbed aprons like his mother.
“Just dropping by. Where’s Dad?”
“Up on the roof of the garage. Replacing shingles or something.”
“He should have called me.”
She whipped out her dust rag and wiped off the top of the television. “Oh, you know he won’t bother you with such things. He doesn’t like to take you away from your work.”
“Or doesn’t want my help.”
She stopped wiping and lifted her face to stare at him. “What in heaven’s name would make you think such a thing, Josiah?”
“He never. . . Oh, never mind.”
“No, don’t give me that never mind hogwash. You tell me what has crawled into your mind and taken root.”
He started to slip out of the room, only to feel the playful snap of his mother’s dust rag. “Don’t you go thinking you can ignore me when I’m talking to you. Get in here and sit down.”
JJ groaned inwardly as he stepped back into the room. But he didn’t sit down. “Do you realize Dad has never told me that he loves me?”
“Oh, for goodness’ sake. Is that all that’s got you tied in knots?” His mother resumed dusting. “Heavens, he hasn’t told me he loves me since our wedding day. That’s just the way he is. Emotions don’t come easy to him. He shows his love. Like when you wanted that bike. Timmy Osborn got one, and after that, you just had to have one, too.”
She stopped and looked up at him, hands on her hips. “Your daddy had been saving up for a new fishing rig. Had his heart set on this fancy rod and reel set. Then one day he comes home with that bike for you. He never mentioned the rod and reel again. Do you understand what I’m saying here, Josiah?”
“Yes, ma’am. I think I do.”
She nodded with satisfaction. “He’s a good man. A kind man. And he loves you more than himself. You are his pride and joy, Josiah. Don’t ever doubt that. He busted two buttons on his shirt the day you made Detective. Pride, Josiah. He’s got pride in you.”
“I got it, Mom.” He leaned down and kissed her cheek again.
“Roast chicken for dinner. And I made apple dumplings. You staying?”
JJ laughed. “Have you ever known me to turn down your cooking?”
He was almost out of the room when the dust rag snapped him on the back. He laughed and continued through the kitchen door to the backyard. A ladder was propped up against the rear of the garage. JJ shrugged off his suit coat and climbed it.
He found his father hammering shingles while the radio blasted jazz. His father looked up, squinting. “Didn’t expect to see you. Got that big case going, don’t you?”
JJ held his tongue, trying to see beyond the words. “I do and it’s a tough one. Needed a break. Came by for some of Mom’s cooking.”
His father nodded and set the hammer down. He reached over to lower the volume on the radio. “Can’t say as I blame you on your momma’s cooking.” He leaned back, one hand draped over his raised knee. “How’s the case going?”
“Not good. This guy is slick.”
“You’ll get him, Son. He’ll make a mistake and you’ll get him. They all do.”
JJ wasn’t sure what made him decide to test the waters, but he figured it couldn’t make things worse. “I don’t know, Dad. This is a real hard one. The guy seems to be playing with us.”
Josiah Sr., nodded as he fingered a tear in his old work pants. “Some are right smart, but don’t underestimate yourself, Josiah. I know what you got in here.” He tapped his finger on the side of his head. “You’ll figure him out and you’ll get him.”
JJ felt the words seep into him like warm oil.
“Well, Dad, if I do catch him, it’s because you taught me well.”
JJ could have sworn his old man blushed. His dad turned his head and reached for a shingle. “I gotta get this done. Gonna get dark soon.”
“I’ll give you a hand.”
“Not in that fancy suit, you’re not. You go help your momma. I’ll be down shortly.”
JJ was going to ask what in the world he was supposed to help his mother do but decided to let it slide. One step at a time.
chapter 29
Friday, April 28
Paula didn’t normally read the paper before she went to work. She seldom had time. It wouldn’t have mattered. No fewer than four different people accosted her as she made her way from the front door to her desk, anxious to show her the ad in the paper.
Someone else, determined to be first, had set the ad on her desk in full view so she couldn’t possibly miss it.
The ad had roses along its border and a large heart at the bottom of the page. The words, in bold script, were simple and to the point.
Paula Horne, you are the love of my life. I can’t imagine living my life without you at my side. I want to be your husband, your best friend, your confidant, and your soul mate. Marry me and make me the happiest man on earth. All my love forever, Matt.
An hour later, at precisely ten o’clock, a dozen long-stemmed red roses were delivered in a white box. There was no note. None was necessary.
“Marry the guy and put him out of his misery,” one of the older women in the department told her. “If you don’t, I will.”
“I’ll fight you for him,” the receptionist interjected.
At noon, a white stretch limo pulled up in front of her office. Work stopped. Keyboards went silent. Phones rang unanswered. Everyone watched as a chauffeur opened the back door of the limo and a man climbed out dressed in a tuxedo with tails and a top hat. His hands wore white gloves and firmly held a silver tray covered with a white cloth.
“Paula! This has got to be for you.”
“Paula! Please tell him no and give me a shot!”
“If you don’t want him, Paula, I do.”
Curious and fascinated, Paula ignored all comments as she watched the chauffeur rush up and open the front door of the building. The man in the tuxedo strutted in and asked for Miss Paula Horne. The receptionist, struck dumb, merely pointed in Paula’s direction.
Paula stood there as the man walked up to her and set the silver tray on her desk. He whipped off the white linen napkin to reveal a white rose, a rolled scroll tied with a red ribbon, and a ring box. Then he leaned forward and handed her the rose. She took it, still stunned.
All her coworkers sidled over, trying to get a firsthand look at what was happening. There were giggles, a groan (purely masculine), whispering, and audible sighs.
The man lifted the scroll and made a great production of untying and setting aside the ribbon. He opened the scroll.
“Master Owen Paul Horne, in accordance with the traditions of marriage, does hereby formally grant his permission to Master Matthew Jonathon Casto to present a proposal of marriage to his daughter, Paula Marie Horne, and enter into a covenant of love and honor to last no less than one hundred years. So signed by Master Owen Horne and Master Matthew Jonathon Casto and duly notarized.”
The scroll was re-rolled and handed to Paula. She couldn’t help shaking her head and smiling. Matt had actually gone to her father and asked for her hand in marriage. And her father had said yes! Her father had never approved of Matt, calling him flighty and undependable. Matt must have pulled out all the st
ops to get her unyielding dad to go along with this.
The ring box was lifted in white gloved hands as if it were a fragile piece of crystal. He opened the ring box and she gasped.
“Master Matthew Jonathon Casto requests the honor of your hand in marriage.”
Stunned, Paula felt her heart flip. She’d wanted a gesture. She’d wanted him to show some effort.
She’d never expected anything like this.
With trembling hands, she reached out and lifted the ring from the box. It was gorgeous. It was huge. It must have cost him a fortune. She started to cry as she slid the ring on her finger.
She lifted her head and stared at the stranger. “Yes.”
He nodded without so much as a smile, but Paula could have sworn she saw a twinkle in his eyes. He turned on his heel and strode out of the building, disappearing inside the limo.
“So much for Matt,” breathed one of the secretaries. “But what about that gorgeous blond in the tuxedo?”
Paula stared at the ring on her hand, twisting it from one side to the other, watching it catch and magnify the light, shimmering like fire.
She looked up in time to see Matt tumbling out of the limo. He tugged at his jacket and then practically ran into the building. He skidded to a halt a few feet from her desk. Paula circled her desk and stopped. “I didn’t expect this.”
“Me either,” he said breathlessly.
“I love you.”
“I love you, too.”
“Yeah,” Paula replied, choking out a giggle. “I can see that you do.” And then she jumped into his arms.
Her mind barely registered all the applause, wolf whistles, and cheers.
#
Inside the limo, Donnie pulled off the white gloves and tossed them on the seat. “Another job well done, Donnie Bevere. Once again, you have outdone yourself.”
#
“Facts are facts and the facts don’t lie.”
Justus Gallagher, one of the top forensic pathologists in the state, frowned as he studied the body stretched out on the stainless-steel autopsy table. He spun his stool around and scooted it back over to the microscope on the counter behind him. Squinting, he looked again. Frowned again.
It didn’t add up.
Vivian Amato, humming something that sounded vaguely familiar, was across the room working on one of the unidentified bodies of a child uncovered in Emmitt Falls. “Aha. So, you’re Kimberly Fields. Hello, Kimberly.”
Justus looked over at her, eager to take his mind off his problems for a minute. “ID one?”
“Yeah. Medical records indicate that Kimberly Fields had surgery on her leg when she was eight months old. And guess what this little bone just told me?”
“Surgery.”
“Bingo. So unless there are two little girls who had surgery on their left tibia, we’ve found Kimberly.” She made a notation on a chart and then looked over at him again. “Problem on your end?”
“You could say that.”
She set her clipboard on the counter and walked over, her scrubs rustling as she walked. “What have you got?”
“Discrepancy.”
“In what way?”
“Well, according to the police, Ted Matthews disappeared on the night of the twentieth. He was seen at work that day. He was seen by his wife that night.”
Vivian tilted her head impatiently. “Get to the point.”
“This body,” he pointed to the autopsy table, “was dead a good three days before that.”
“Impossible.” Vivian drew closer, keeping her hands aloft to prevent any contamination from one body to another, and looked into the microscope. “Well, phooey.”
She backed up, her gaze moving from the microscope to the body and then back to Justus. “We’ve got us an anomaly.”
“We’ve got us a John Doe. Not only was this man dead while Ted Matthews was still walking and talking, this man shows deterioration in the liver that indicates extensive alcohol consumption. According to these medical records, Edward Matthews was a nondrinker.”
“A little nip on the side, perhaps?” Now she was frowning.
Justus shook his head. “We’re talking severe alcoholic. And over a long period of time. No way to hide the kind of drinking this man did.”
“Okay, I hate to ask the obvious, but what about blood work?”
“I was just about to call and see if it’s ready.”
She nodded and headed back across the room. “If you’re right, we’re going to have one very unhappy homicide cop on our case.”
“Facts are facts and the facts don’t lie.”
chapter 30
Friday, April 28
He watched dispassionately as she struggled against the ropes that held her in the ladder-back chair. Every once in awhile, she would look at him and glare daggers, but they didn’t faze him. She wasn’t going anywhere. He would have disposed of her already, but
he wasn’t done with her yet.
“You might as well give up. You won’t get loose.”
She turned a tear-streaked face in his direction and then spit at him, her eyes overflowing with venom.
“I’m impressed,” he said dryly. “A few feet more and you might have hit my shoes.”
“You won’t get away with this!”
He smiled, amused with her persistence. “Dear woman, I’ve already gotten away with it.”
“They will catch you!”
He shrugged, letting the comment roll off easily. “They aren’t smart enough.”
“They’re smarter than you think! They’re just luring you in!”
This time he was amused enough to laugh. “Of course they are. How silly of me not to realize that. And you were the bait? Is that it? I suppose those smart FBI agents are surrounding this building as we speak. I am so afraid.”
He shook his head in disgust. “Please don’t insult my intelligence.”
The cell phone on the table rang, and his lips twitched in anticipation. It was time for the next round of the game to begin. He picked up the phone.
“Hello?”
“Who is this?”
“Mr. Shefford! How delightful to hear from you. I do suppose you called to talk to your ex-wife, but I’m afraid she’s a little tied up at the moment.”
“Tied up? Who is this? Where is she?”
“Scream for him, Mrs. Shefford. Let him know how frightened you truly are at this moment.”
#
Karen stared emotionless at the featureless interview room, ignoring her brother as he waved his hands, talked, pleaded, and cajoled. She studied the dull gray walls, cracked floor tiles of gray and white, metal table, metal chairs, barred window.
Her brother was upset about her decision to leave Jessica with the McCaines. How could she make him understand? She was going to prison! It didn’t matter that she hadn’t killed anyone. No one believed her. And if the police didn’t believe her, why would a jury?
Between the time she was arrested and the time she was locked into her cell, the truth had set in. Ted had set her up. No one else could have done it. He said he was going to meet with the kidnappers. He told her not to call the police. Then he didn’t come back. Their money was gone, a bloody knife appeared conveniently in her kitchen, and a dead body showed up in the backyard.
That’s when she’d lost all hope. God had abandoned her. Fate had conspired against her. Her life was over. Nothing would ever be the same.
Ray’s hand slapped the table hard and she jumped.
“If you don’t listen to me, Karen, I swear I’m. . .” He sputtered.
“Ray, you don’t understand.”
“I understand all too well. You’ve given up!”
She leaned forward, her hands clasped in front of her. “Ray, listen to me. It’s over. Ted won. I’m going to prison.”
“No! God is not going to abandon you.”
Frustrated, Karen flopped back in her chair, throwing her hands up in the air. “He’s already abandoned me! Don�
��t you see that?”
“No, I don’t. He may be testing your faith, but—”
“Testing my faith?” Karen snapped. “You call this testing my faith? I’ve been arrested for premeditated murder, Ray. Murder. No bail, do not pass go, do not collect two hundred dollars.”
Ray slapped the table again. “We prayed to get Jessica back and God brought her back to you! Do you think that was just chance? Do you know how easy it would have been for those people just to turn a blind eye to the fliers? They love that baby. They thought that baby was theirs. God intervened and they came forward with her. That was God talking to you, Karen! Is this over? No. But being the loving God that He is, He gave you a sign. He’s still here and it’s going to work out. He’s given you something to hold on to through the rest of this.”
“Well, He hasn’t given me enough.”
Karen looked over at Detective Johnson, who was still leaning against the wall, arms folded across his chest, listening to the entire conversation with a curious expression on his face. “Can I go back to my cell now?”
JJ pushed off from the wall. “If that’s what you want.”
She stood up. “It’s what I want.” Turning, she placed her hands behind her back so he could snap the handcuffs back on.
“Can I ask you a question, Mrs. Matthews?”
She shrugged silently.
“I admit that I don’t know what I believe about God, but answer me this. If you call yourself a Christian, what good is it if when things go wrong, you blame God and turn your back on Him?”
#
Zoe brushed at the tears that ran freely down her cheeks. He had her mother! A half-hour earlier, her father’s knees had buckled and he’d slid to the floor. He’d stared at the phone in disbelief and then dropped it as if it had suddenly burned his hand.
“He has your mother,” he’d said. Then he’d looked up at her with horror still framing his eyes. “He said you were the next one to join Gina in the garden of death.”
