by Robin Janney
“No, not yet.” He waited for her to ask if she could come to him, but she didn’t.
“I miss you.”
“I know, honey. Get some sleep.”
She nodded and signed off without another word.
Craig closed his laptop down, regretting that he hadn’t ended with I love you instead of an admonishment for her to sleep. He hoped she heard it just the same.
I n the quiet of her home, Angela padded quietly down the stairs and into her kitchen, Princess at her heels as always. And it was her kitchen, regardless of Nan’s presence. It had been designed with her in mind, after all, not Nan. They hadn’t even met Nan when they first started building this house.
Flipping the lights on in the dark kitchen, she pulled out the blueberry cobbler from earlier and dished a large portion into a bowl. She popped it into the microwave, and as it was warming, she pulled out the French Vanilla ice cream out of the freezer. She scooped a generous amount of ice cream on top of the steaming dessert when it was done warming.
Returning everything to its place, she took her bowl into the living room and…then retraced her steps back to the kitchen. Her heart began to increase its tempo as she paced around the island. The lights had all been off, even the one over the sink. That one was supposed to stay on all the time. It was one of her habits Craig hadn’t even batted an eye after they were living under the same roof. Everywhere they’d lived, from the house in Tyler’s Grove, to the huge cabin they’d started in, to this house, her husband had consented to leave a light above the sink lit. She hated coming home to a dark house.
Panic filled her, even if she didn’t understand why. The alarm by the door said it was activated, so there was that small comfort. Had her husband been home, she could have asked him to check the internal cameras. She was sure he had them on. But he wasn’t, and she didn’t want to risk waking him if he was sleeping. She suddenly needed to know if everything was where it was supposed to be. Flipping every light in the kitchen, she started with the cupboards nearest the door. She’d work her way around…
J ared wasn’t sure what woke him, but he sat up in bed and listened. It sounded like someone, or something was clawing and whining at his bedroom door. Opening the door, he found Princess there. The yellow dog barked at him, then trotted a few feet away. Looking back at him, she gave another bark as she did a circle in the hallway. Scratching at the waistband of his shorts, he decided to follow the dog.
“Alright girl, I’m coming.” He followed the dog down the stairs, through the dining area and into the brightly lit kitchen. It was the middle of the night and Angela had the kitchen pantry torn apart? Food goods filled the island and the small kitchen table. “Angie, what are you doing?”
She barely glanced at him. “I have to make sure everything is where it’s supposed to be. Something’s out of place. I just don’t know what.”
“At three in the morning?”
That brought her to a stop. “It’s…But I just came down…” She glanced around the room; she looked confused, and a little surprised. “Well, no stopping now.”
Her motions were frenzied as she resumed putting boxed brownie mixes into the pantry. Jared was a little freaked out watching her. She was standing on a stool, apparently so she could reach the top shelf.
“Since you’re here, can you pass stuff to me please?” she asked him. “Start with the olive oil.”
Nodding, he came further into the room and began handing her bottles of oil. From what he could see in the closet, each shelf had labels on their edges. As his sister asked for items, Jared passed them into her. Mixes and spices. Flours and sugars. The order seemed completely random to him, especially since he could see she was bouncing back and forth between shelves. Who needed so many kinds of flours? Wasn’t one kind enough? Same with the oils.
“What was out of place?” he asked when everything was put back and she was shutting the door.
“I don’t know. I haven’t found it yet.”
“Are you freaking serious, Angela?” He tried to stop her from unloading the refrigerator.
“Yes. The light over the sink was out and when that happens, it means something somewhere is out of place. Nan knows to leave the light on and to put everything in its place.” She struggled with him a moment, Princess circled around them barking. “Dammit, this is my home! I know when something’s out of place!”
“So, maybe it’s something I did. I was down here earlier to get a snack and a soda.” Why was she so afraid? Even the dog was upset.
Angela stilled, and so did Princess. “Did you turn the light above the sink off?”
“Yeah, why?”
“It’s supposed to stay on.”
“Alright,” promised Jared. “I won’t turn it off again. I didn’t know. I’m sorry.”
His sister nodded and seemed convinced. “I forgot you were sleeping in the main house tonight. I’m sorry. Did I wake you?”
“No, Princess did.”
Looking down at the agitated dog, Angela ran her hand over the dog’s head. Princess barked again. “Good girl. You’re right, we’ll go back to bed. Sorry Jared.” She picked up a bowl off the island counter and sighed. “So much for that.”
Jared watched in silence as she discarded her uneaten dessert and left the bowl in the sink. After they’d turned the lights off again, except for the one over the sink, the two left the kitchen. He followed his sister back upstairs and made sure she turned off into her own bedroom before returning to his own. He picked up his iPhone and opened the messages.
He felt no hesitation like he had before, so he sent a text: Craig, has your dog ever woken you up in the middle of the night to lead you to Angie doing something weird like tearing the kitchen apart?
Laying back down, Jared was a little surprised when the phone chimed a reply before he could even cover himself with the bed covers. Snuggling down in the bed, he checked the reply.
Craig had sent: Yeah, it’s happened before. ‘something’s out of place’?
It didn’t make Jared feel any better to know this wasn’t a one-time deal. He replied to his brother-in-law: I guess I turned a light out I shouldn’t have…I didn’t know.
Moment later, Craig replied with: It’s one of the ways Derek tormented her, even after there were locks on her apartment door. The only time he left Angela alone was when you or your grandmother was staying with her. It was little things like lights being turned out, curtains opened, books moved. It’s some of her missing memories…but part of her remembers, because when something’s off like that, she freaks out. It’s nothing to worry about. If it happens again, let me know and I’ll double-check the internal cameras.
Internal cameras? Jared sat up in bed and flicked on the bedside lamp. Looking around the room, he saw a small camera high in the corner, and another one by the door facing the windows. Did Angela know?
It wasn’t something he was going to ask his sister. Instead, he sent a text to Craig: No wonder you’re ok leaving her here – she’s never out of your sight, is she? He waited for the reply, wondering how close to being right he was.
But Craig replied: I’m far from ok being away from her, but at least I know she’s safe there. It looks like she’s settling down, but don’t be surprised if she sleeps late today. I hope she does anyway.
Damn, thought Jared. He sent a farewell text back and set his phone back on the bedside stand. No reply came, but if his brother-in-law was watching his wife sleep, then he wouldn’t be interested in talking with him.
Jared never did fall back to sleep.
23
A t the gentle rap at her door, Cori Hadlock Mallone sighed. It was midafternoon, and she had just begun assembling the pie she was trying to make. It was crazy to be baking in the middle of July, but she wanted practice before the holidays even though they were staying home this year.
She’d never been much of a cook, but since she’d been given this second chance at making something of her life, she figured it wouldn�
��t hurt to give it a shot. She would never admit, not even to her husband, but deep down she was trying to imitate Angela Moore. Cori couldn’t admit it to herself.
Angela had always been one of the best cooks in their Home Economics classes and 4-H. Pies had been her forte and the ones she’d made for the County Fair had always sold for the highest price even though the pie bakers were supposedly kept anonymous. Angela’s fancy top crusts were always a giveaway.
The gentle rap at the door came again. Brushing the flour off her hands, Cori called out, “Just a minute.”
Making her way from the kitchen to the front of the house, she groaned when she saw the police uniform through the curtains. Biting off a curse, she wiped her hands hastily on the frilly apron covering her jeans one more time. Opening the door, she greeted the woman of equal height standing on her porch. “Trooper Stevens.”
“Hi, Cori. Baking?”
Cori tried not to stiffen. The state police officer always spoke in a tightly controlled tone of voice and it was hard not to feel guilty over whatever she was doing when the officer called. “Trying to. What have I done to piss Crane off now?”
“Nothing I’m aware of. Did you forget what today is?”
Her shoulders slumped in dismay. “It’s that time of month already? We just went!”
“A month ago,” the other woman reminded her.
Cori made a frustrated sound. “Can we do it another day? Or even wait just an hour? I’m trying to make a pie and it’s almost ready to go in the oven.”
Trooper Stevens looked at her watch. “I can be back in an hour. What kind of pie?”
“Apple, Alex’s favorite.”
The state trooper nodded. “Mine too.”
“If it turns out the way it’s supposed to, I’ll let you have a piece.”
“That won’t be…” The other woman hesitated. “I think I’d like that.
Cori hid her surprise. “In that case, would you like to come in and wait? No sense in wasting gas, not at the prices it’s at these days.”
“You got coffee on?”
“Always.” Cori let the other woman in and shut the door. “The kitchen’s this way.”
Silence descended on them as they moved from one room to another.
Cori didn’t know what to say. She was still getting used to being a pastor’s wife, and most of the time she felt so inadequate when she had guests. While Erica Stevens wasn’t a member of their church, she was one of Everett Crane’s people. A rather high ranking one if she understood things correctly. The policewoman wouldn’t judge from the same perspective as her husband’s parishioners, but Cori had no doubt the other woman was taking note of everything from the full coffeepot to the lighthouse mug she handed her and the simple glass sugar bowl.
Nervously, Cori resumed her pie making.
Sitting at the table, keeping herself clear from Cori’s mess, Trooper Stevens sipped at her hot sweetened drink.
“I forgot to ask if you wanted milk or creamer,” said Cori suddenly.
“I’m fine,” Erica assured her.
Cori nodded. After a few minutes, she asked, “Why does Crane insist I visit Susan? Is it to remind me how close I came to having an adjoining cell?”
“It could be, although he’s never said so to me. I know he continues to hope Susan will tell you more about who her other connections were and in which rival organization. He never did buy the line that the two of you thought it up on your own.”
The pastor’s wife chuckled sardonically. “I can’t believe Susan tried passing that off myself. Where would the two of us gotten the kind of money being offered? We were both unemployed with fines leveled against us. Yeah, the judge let us off easy when we framed Angela for stealing from the cash registers at Craig’s store, but it sure didn’t make our life easy. I’m still not able to get a job, even here in Lipton.”
“I imagine not,” agreed the police woman.
The silence was heavier this time, but brief.
“I didn’t have that much to do with any of it. Just made a few phone calls to some of Ange’s old boyfriends. Susan never told me any of the finer details. Probably afraid I’d chicken out like I tried to with the cash registers.” Cori dumped her apple pie filling into her crust and worked on her lattice top. The pie filling had been the easiest. Just peel and slice the apples, and toss the slices with flour, sugar, spices and pats of butter. It was the top crust giving her fits. Angela’s lattices had always been so precise, quite unlike the one she was weaving together now.
But those days were farther behind than the ones Cori was talking about now. “When Angela went on her last break that night, I told Susan it wasn’t a good idea and we should put the money back. She grabbed it out of my hands and pulled me back to stand guard at the break room. I should have done so many things differently.”
Erica cleared her throat. “Be that as it may, I’d say it ended up working out for you in the end. You dealt truthfully with Crane and from the looks of things, you’re happy now.”
“I am.” Placing the finished pie on a cookie sheet, she slid it into the pre-heated oven and set the timer. Pouring a fresh cup of coffee for herself, Cori continued to speak. “Aside from the fact I lost my kids and I only get to see them every other weekend. Aside from the fact I can’t go into Tyler’s Grove, or even Sawyersville, without people staring and whispering behind my back. Well, all except Flo of course. She has no trouble saying things where I can hear them.”
“She does have that reputation,” nodded Trooper Stevens.
Cori began to clear her baking mess from the table, occasionally drinking from her mug. “But I do get what you’re saying. I have an amazing husband now. Alex doesn’t hold me accountable for the deaths of men he once called friends. Says he expected they’d die in their line of business sooner or later.”
Nodding, Erica tasted her coffee. “They did take a rough path.”
“By choice, as Alex constantly reminds me.”
More minutes passed by in silence. Erica finished her coffee and helped herself to another cup. Cori continued cleaning up after her baking, placing dirty dishes into the dishwasher.
“It’s pointless,” declared Cori, sitting at the table across from the woman in uniform. “Susan will never tell me anything more than what she already has.”
Erica sighed. “You’re probably right, but Mr. Crane will never see that.”
“He’s too used to getting his own way with people.”
Laughing, Erica nodded. “Probably.”
Cori chose her next words carefully. “Angela is probably the only exception.”
“No doubt about that,” agreed Erica. She pushed her once again empty mug away.
Chuckling, Cori sipped from her cooling coffee and leaned an elbow on the tabletop. “I still hear occasional comments about their conversation in the Pancake House.”
The policewoman laughed again. “I wish I’d been able to be there to see her throw the soda bottle at him. I really do!”
Cori smiled. “She tried to friend me on Facebook,” she admitted to the other woman, knowing it would be repeated to Crane. “I messaged her back and forth enough for her to understand why it couldn’t happen, and then I had to block her.”
“You wanted to say yes though, didn’t you?”
“Of course,” she replied. “We were never close friends in high school, but it would have been nice to think that after everything we could try again.”
“Angela does have that way about her. I’m not sure what it is.”
“She’s likable.” Cori shrugged, checking the timer counting down on the back of the stove. “Even when she’s irritating, she’s still likable. And she does it without even trying. Which is why it’s irritating!”
The other woman chuckled. “I understand that. I really do. It was hard when she didn’t want to open up after she came out of the coma. Crane was adamant about getting details from her despite the detective the Moore’s brought in, but Angela wasn’t
saying anything. She told me off actually.”
“What did end up being said?” Cori asked. “I mean, obviously she said something to somebody.”
“She went to Maggie Witherspoon.” Erica’s face colored slightly. “They had quite the conversation when Angela had her hair cut. Everything Angela said lined up with what her father-in-law’s detective uncovered. Her words were the nails in the coffin, so to speak. But I think what you’re asking about is how Angela made Maggie promise that nothing would happen to either you or Susan. It seems she was worried Crane would kill the two of you like he had her kidnappers.”
Shocked, Cori took her mug to the sink and emptied the rest of her coffee down the drain. “Why would she do that? We would have deserved his kind of justice.”
“I doubt your husband would agree with that.” The state trooper shrugged. “That’s how Angela is, by all accounts. People piss on her and she shrugs it off and forgives them. I thought you’d have known that about her.”
“Not where I’m concerned. I’d have expected…” She shook her head and didn’t finish her thought. “More coffee?”
“How much longer for the pie?”
Checking the timer, Cori answered, “Ten minutes.”
“I’ll wait then.”
As she waited, Cori fiddled with dishes. Forks, plates, and an ice cream scoop. Everyone had vanilla ice cream with their apple pie, right?
“I always thought her forgiveness was an act.” Cori picked the conversation up again as the timer began to beep. Turning it off, she picked her potholders up and withdrew the pie from the oven. It certainly looked as good as it smelled, even if the lattice was a little uneven in spots. “A kind of front to keep people off balance, to trick them back into friendship and then get revenge.”
The other woman watched silently as she nervously placed the pie on a cooling rack.
“I’ve never seen anything to suggest that’s what she does, but it never stopped me from thinking it.” Cori shrugged as she set the potholders aside. They had a lighthouse pattern, like everything else in this house. The church supplied much of their furnishings here in the parsonage, and she wondered if they carried their lighthouse theme too far sometimes. “Even after I came to the faith, I never encountered forgiveness on that level. Except for a few. I’m still not sure about Angela. It’s unreal.”
