He had a point. A rather good one. Lucky for Sadie, she was saved from having to reply as Eric turned into the driveway of his home. He threw the car into park alongside the RV and turned to face the backseat.
“The key to wisdom is knowing all the right questions,” he said, looking directly at Josh. “And sometimes, the right questions are answered by a key.”
He glanced pointedly at Sadie, but it took her a few seconds to realize what his poetic explanation meant.
“Oh, right,” she said, shifting the dish of Evil Chicken so she could reach into her pocket and extract the key. Eric smiled even bigger, letting Sadie know she’d picked up on his not-so-subtle instruction.
Josh looked at the key and clenched his jaw.
“What’s it to?” Sadie asked.
“Like I said, there’s no reason for me to tell you anything.”
“That’s what I thought you’d say,” Eric replied. He turned to Sadie. “You’re all welcome to come on in and make yourselves at home. Don’t mind the mess.” With that he turned off the car and opened his door.
Sadie quickly thought about how they were going to get the answers Josh didn’t seem all that motivated to hand over. Her eyes were drawn to the duffel bag. She looked at Josh and smiled sweetly. She had more than just the key she could hold hostage, but she didn’t bother saying so out loud.
Chapter 33
The rice cooker was plugged in, the Evil Chicken was deemed warm enough to eat without having to reheat it, and Josh was retied to a chair before Sadie had a chance to open the duffel bag. She’d taken it into the den around the corner from the kitchen so she wouldn’t squirm under Josh’s disapproving stare. The camera bag took up half the space inside the duffel and it was tricky to wrestle it out of the bag with one arm, but she managed. She set it on the floor and tried to determine what they should do next. Wait for the rice to be done, or get right to the questions?
“Mom,” Shawn called from the kitchen. “Your phone is ringing again!”
Pete!
Sadie struggled to her feet and hurried to the back door where she’d hung her purse on one of the hooks. The other hooks held a variety of grocery sacks, jackets, and an old pair of work boots tied together at the laces.
The phone was on its fourth ring by the time she dug it out of her purse, both terrified and hopeful it was Pete.
It wasn’t.
The area code was 303 and Sadie immediately thought of Jane. After hesitating another moment, Sadie pushed the talk button milliseconds before Jane would have been sent to voice mail. Even as she put the phone to her ear she hoped taking this call wasn’t a bad idea.
“Hello?” Sadie turned her back on the three men watching her and walked back to the den. And a well-lived-in den at that. She accidentally kicked an empty pop can across the floor, and after assessing that the furniture wasn’t going to easily offer her a comfortable place to sit, she chose to stand.
“Sadie?” Jane asked, sounding relieved. “I’ve been trying to reach you forever.”
“I’ve been a little busy,” Sadie said dryly.
“Yeah, well me too,” Jane said as though they were in some kind of competition. “And I need a little help.”
“From me?” Sadie asked. “The woman you duped into helping you get inside the hotel? I think you’ve used up all my favors.”
Jane was silent for a moment. “I’m sorry,” she said, sounding like she meant it. “But I’m in trouble. It’s freezing out here, and I don’t have anyone else I can call.”
For the first time, Sadie picked up on the shiver in the other woman’s voice. “You’re outside?” She looked out the window at the falling snow. According to last night’s ten o’clock news, the storm wouldn’t let up until early morning.
“I left the hotel about thirty minutes ag-go,” Jane said. “But my car is in the lot and it’s still blocked off. I thought I could find a restaurant where I could hunker down and wait it out, but I swear everything in this town closes at ten. Is there any way you could come pick me up?”
Sadie’s sympathy button was officially triggered despite herself. The last thing she wanted to do was go back outside, but she couldn’t leave anyone out in a snowstorm like this. Not even sneaky reporters who took advantage of Sadie to further their own agendas. There was also that part about Jane’s mysterious meeting with Mr. Ogreski. She couldn’t help but wonder if Jane could confirm some of the things Sadie had learned or perhaps even add to them. “Where are you?” Sadie asked.
“Um,” Jane paused. “I’m behind Shopko. They have a loading dock that’s at least covered so I’m out of the worst of the snow.”
“I know where that is,” Sadie said, surprised that Jane had made it almost half a mile away from the hotel. “Hold on a minute.”
Sadie put the phone against her stomach so Jane wouldn’t be able to overhear and went back into the kitchen, searching for Eric. He, along with Shawn and Josh, were sitting at the table, eating. Apparently dinner was ready.
“It’s awesome, huh?” Shawn said with his mouth full.
Both Eric and Josh nodded as if they were all friends enjoying a meal, instead of strangers thrown together in such bizarre conditions.
“Eric,” Sadie interrupted, “I need to pick up a . . . friend. Could I, uh, use your car?”
“Are you sure that’s a good idea?” Eric asked.
Sadie realized they’d taken Eric’s Jeep to the hotel and a wave of guilt washed over her at what she’d put this poor man through. “They could be looking for your Jeep,” she said. “I shouldn’t have asked you, I’m—”
Eric shook his head. “I’m not worried about that. If they were tracking the Jeep, they’d have caught up to us by now. I’m just wondering if you’re okay to drive.”
Sadie forced herself to stand a little straighter. She may only have one arm, but she was fully capable. “I can drive,” she said. “It’s just that she’s out in all this”—she waved toward the window—“and she’s kind of a part of everything.”
Eric nodded. “Sure, it’s fine with me. I was going to get started on the key, but would you rather I drove you somewhere?”
“I think it would be better to figure out that key as soon as possible,” Sadie said. She kept to herself that she still had concerns about Jane’s character and didn’t want to complicate things by having someone else Jane could try to manipulate.
“I can go with you,” Shawn said after he swallowed another bite.
Sadie shook her head. “No, you stay here with . . .” She was going to say “him” but it seemed so impersonal, but saying his name sounded so familiar and she wasn’t sure that was appropriate either. “With Josh. I’ll be fine.”
It took a few more seconds of assuring Shawn she was okay to go by herself before Sadie returned to the den and put the phone to her ear.
“I’ll be there in a few minutes,” she said to Jane. “Look for a green Jeep Cherokee.”
“Thank you,” Jane said, her voice very different from the arrogant woman Sadie had first encountered in the parking lot. “I owe you one.”
Sadie hung up the phone and put it in her jacket pocket, but Jane’s words continued to play in her mind: “I owe you one.”
Sadie was counting on it.
Chapter 34
The huddled form in the corner of the loading dock was impossible to mistake for anything other than a nearly frozen Jane Seeley. Sadie pulled up next to the stairs as Jane came rather slowly to her feet. Her black-and-red hair was plastered to her head and every stitch of clothing she had on looked wet and frozen. As Jane made her way to the car, Sadie reflected on the fact that Thom was lucky he’d come inside when he had. She wasn’t sure he could have made the same walk now. As it was, Sadie had shifted the Jeep into four-wheel drive within a block of leaving Eric’s house. The roads were awful and the plows hadn’t been out yet.
Jane opened the door and slid into the seat. She pulled the door shut and wrapped her arms around herself.
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Sadie turned up the heat and closed the vents on her side so all the warm air would go to Jane. She also made a mental note that the seat would be wet and Eric would probably need a shop vac to get the water out.
“Oh, sweetie,” Sadie said, sympathy overwhelming her hesitation. “You’re soaked to the bone.”
Jane rested her head against the seat and closed her eyes. “Thank you for picking me up,” she said, her voice shaking.
“Maybe you should have stayed at the hotel,” Sadie said, pulling away from the building. During the drive over, she’d kept a sharp eye out for police cars, but hadn’t seen any, thank goodness. She hoped her luck would hold as well on the ride back.
Jane shook her head, her eyes still closed. “The police were in a frenzy. They’d arrested some lady and she’d gotten away or something. I managed to slip out the back, but my car was around front and the press vans were clogging the street. I was worried the police would want to interrogate me since I never got one of those ticket things they were giving everyone who was cleared to leave. I really didn’t think it would be a big deal to wait out the barricade, but it got cold real fast and so I started walking and calling you. I’d thought your phone had gone dead or something, but then you didn’t answer at your house either. I’m so glad you finally answered.”
They drove in silence for a minute. Jane began shaking, a common effect of extreme cold.
Sadie pulled over to the side of the road. “Maybe Eric has a blanket in the back,” she said. “Hold on.” She let herself out of the car.
It took some finagling, but she eventually got the back hatch open. Sure enough, there was a blanket in the back. It was one of those velour types popular at cheap motels, but it was soft and warm and that’s what mattered. Even though she had used her good arm, it about killed her shoulder to close the back door. She had to pause to catch her breath while the pain subsided. She climbed back in the car, kicking as much snow as possible off her shoes before closing the door. There was nearly two inches on the ground.
“Unfortunately,” Sadie said as she pulled back onto the snowy street, “as long as you’re in those wet clothes the blanket won’t do much good.”
“I-I’m okay,” Jane said, wrapping up in the blanket with a grateful smile. She looked at Sadie’s empty sleeve. “What happened to your arm?”
“Oh,” Sadie said, “let’s just say it’s been an adventurous evening for both of us. It’s not too bad though.” That was a lie—it hurt terribly—but Sadie didn’t want to get into that.
Jane didn’t press the topic of Sadie’s injury. “I owe you an apology.”
Sadie couldn’t deny she was surprised to hear that. She didn’t pretend to be ignorant of what it was Jane was referring to. “You got me in trouble with one of the detectives,” Sadie said, leaving it at that for now. While she couldn’t blame Jane for her own arrest, interrupting Pete’s meeting had certainly affected Sadie’s credibility with several people within the department.
“I’m sorry,” Jane said again. “I get carried away sometimes.” They both fell silent for a minute. “I know you don’t owe me any more favors, but is there any way I could go to your house and warm up? Maybe borrow something to change into?”
Sadie shifted uncomfortably. “Normally I’d say yes, but I’m afraid I can’t go home right now.” Quite frankly, Sadie didn’t know what to do with Jane. She hadn’t thought beyond rescuing her from certain death. Would it be unfair for her to take Jane back to Eric’s house? Shouldn’t she ask Eric’s permission first? And yet, what other options were there? Even if she took Jane to a hotel, Jane had nothing dry to wear. There were really no options other than taking Jane with her. Boy, she was going to owe Eric big-time for all the help he was giving her. Maybe she’d clean his house once she had both hands. That was a payback he certainly couldn’t refuse. “I’m staying at a . . . friend’s house. You can come there for a little while.”
“Thank you,” Jane said.
Sadie nodded her acceptance of the gratitude. Anyone would have done as much. She hoped that if Eric did any household chores, it was laundry so Jane could get out of her wet clothes.
“Did you find anything that helped your story?” Sadie asked as she looked both ways at a four-way stop. The roads were empty, many roads not even showing tire tracks in the deep snow. Most people were home—which is exactly where Sadie wanted to be.
Jane let out a breath. “Not really,” she said darkly. Some of the softness she’d had in her earlier comments was decidedly gone. Tough Jane was back.
“Oh,” Sadie said, hoping her own disappointment wasn’t too obvious. If Jane hadn’t learned anything, she couldn’t share it. “I’m sorry to hear that. You’ve certainly put a lot into this story.”
“Yes, I have,” Jane said. She paused for a moment before continuing, her voice taking on an angry urgency. “I’m good at what I do, Sadie,” Jane said, sounding strangely defensive. Sadie wasn’t sure what Jane needed to defend herself against in the Jeep, but she didn’t interrupt her. Emotional venting was often full of valuable information. “I went to their rooms but—”
“Rooms?” Sadie interrupted.
“Yes, the hotel rooms for Thom Mortenson and Mark Ogreski.”
“You got into their rooms?”
“Well, not really,” Jane said, frustration lacing her words. “The police were already there, and so the best I got was to overhear that Mr. O has some serious problems.”
“What do you mean?” Sadie asked.
“One officer was reading off like eight medications.” She reached under her shirt and produced an only slightly wet notepad with Carmichael Hotel stamped on the top. “Prozac, Xanax, Ambien, and codeine. Okay, that’s only four, but still.”
“Those are heavy-duty medications, aren’t they?” Sadie asked, looking at Jane again.
“Yeah,” Jane said. Her tone was a bit dismissive, however, telling Sadie that Jane didn’t think the meds were all that important. “But right then another cop came around the corner and got after me. I said the hotel manager had sent me up to see if they needed anything, but I had to go back downstairs. I had really hoped that . . .” She stopped herself and Sadie looked at her quickly.
“What?” Sadie asked. “Hoped what?”
Jane was silent for a moment, and Sadie concentrated hard on sending out “you can trust me” vibes.
After a moment, Jane let out a breath. “I’m a good reporter, Sadie,” she said again. “And the Ms. Jane column is a good gig—I’m not complaining—but it’s not me. The picture isn’t even me. And while I’m grateful for the work, I don’t want to spend the rest of my life telling coeds whether or not to pay their bum boyfriend’s cell phone bills. I’ve been trying so hard to break out of the mold I put myself in, but the paper’s fighting me. They’ve let me do a story here and there, but nothing exclusive, nothing earth-shattering. And then here I am, in the perfect place at the perfect time with the perfect exclusive that only needs a little fleshing out and I’m stuck. I get into the hotel—a crime scene—and I get two feet from their room, for heaven’s sake, and I end up with nothing. My contact is dead, my sources are used up, and every other journalist in the country is swarming over my story like flies. After weeks of research, I’m going to end up telling the same overdone story as every other newspaper in the Midwest because I can’t get my facts verified. Yet I’ve worked so much harder than any of them. It’s so not fair.”
“I’m sorry,” Sadie said, still aware that Jane had yet to tell her what her story was about. Even though she didn’t necessarily support Jane’s methods, she could relate to hard work coming to nothing. That was never fun—even when that hard work was illegal. She tried to phrase her next question as casually as she could. “What exactly were you researching all these weeks? It must have been big to have taken so much of your attention.”
“It was big,” Jane said, sounding discouraged. “Huge—if I had verifiable facts to support it, which I can’t seem t
o find.”
“What kind of verifiable facts?” Sadie finally asked, once again in search of the perfect tone of voice that communicated interest without triggering Jane’s defenses.
Jane turned her head to look at Sadie, and Sadie continued to look out the windshield as though she didn’t notice the other woman watching her.
She tried to reframe her question. “I mean, maybe I can help you figure it out.” She hesitated. How much did she want to say about what she’d discovered tonight? She decided on bits and pieces. “It’s been kind of an interesting night for me, too. Maybe I have something that would help you.”
“What?” Jane asked, an edge to her voice. It was hard to believe this was the same woman who’d been humble and apologetic a few minutes ago. “What do you have?”
Sadie glanced at her and hoped she was playing her cards correctly. “What do you have?” she asked back.
Jane was silent, but she straightened in the seat. “You won’t just tell me what you know?”
“You won’t just tell me what you know?” Sadie countered. She came to a stop at a stop sign less than two blocks from Eric’s house. She didn’t continue through the intersection after she’d paused for her required three seconds. Instead she looked at Jane and lifted her eyebrows expectantly.
Jane narrowed her eyes and lifted her chin. “I’ll trade you,” she said. “You tell me something I don’t know, and I’ll do the same.”
That sounded good to Sadie. She went first, a show of good faith in her opinion, but she only told what she knew would be well-known once she went to the police. “There was a young man at the hotel taking pictures of Mr. Ogreski’s body. He said he was with the crime scene, but he wasn’t. I found him in old yearbooks. He was Damon Mortenson’s best friend before Damon died.”
Jane looked impressed. “What else do you have?”
Sadie shook her head. “Your turn.”
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